I'll Stand By You
by LilyGhost
Summary: Ranger leaves for a job and comes home to Stephanie needing her even more than when he left. A revolving Ranger/Stephanie POV story.
1. Chapter 1

**This story is a multi-chapter, two POV, one that I have already completed. It'll likely be my weekly posting until it's marked complete, in-between any updates I manage to finish. MamaJoyce, this story is for you, The Guys, and everybody out there like them ... I hope it lives up to our conversations. All familiar characters belong to Janet. The mistakes are solely mine.**

 **Ranger POV**

The problem with being the best is _I'm_ the one they call first. When I made the decision years ago to dedicate my life to my country, or sacrifice myself for it, it was an easy choice. I had lived from day-to-day. I was given a mission and I excelled at completing every one of them. Then I was given a team of men to lead into and out of every battle. The more training and responsibility I received, the more lethal I became. It's hard to admit, but there's no hiding from the truth, I lost _Carlos_ in becoming _Ranger_ , but Stephanie showed me that I can be both men and still be accepted ... even loved.

Which made my decision to save someone else's life at the possible expense of the one I've been waiting forever for, an extremely difficult one. While I will always put my people's needs ahead of my own, my loyalty feels divided. I am the best at what I do, and I'm the man who can get in and out with few-to-no casualties, but the thought of leaving Stephanie after finally getting her is ripping my guts apart.

Before ... if I died, my family would mourn, but they would help each other get through it. I can't let myself picture what my death would do to my Babe. So I won't allow it to happen despite the shit I'm up against here. As I laid there in another fucking sandy trench, in hundred-degree weather, trying to keep my eyes and mouth closed as often as I could to prevent bringing any illness home with me as we waited on word if we can finally move in or if we once again have to start looking for another location. My job is to get two Soldiers out of what had turned into a hostage situation after what was supposed to have been just a standard recon mission. And unfortunately, I have a few moments to think about what I had to walk away from again.

The night I left three weeks ago has been forever seared into my brain. Wearing one of my t-shirts, with nothing except soft skin and the memory of me beneath it, Stephanie grabbed her shoulder bag that had been on the kitchen counter, and she pulled out a small box from it.

"You'll probably think it's stupid ..."

"There is _nothing_ you can do or say that I'll feel is stupid, Babe."

"I'm glad you feel that way, because I knew this day would be coming at some point and I'd need something to hold onto when it did."

She opened the jewelry box and handed me a dog tag like the ones I'll be wearing for an indeterminate amount of time again, but hers is a sterling silver tag with the words " _I'll carry your heart_ " engraved on it with a heart cut out of the metal between the four words. She went back to the box and then took a small ring from it that held the same heart-shaped cutout from the tag that had " _With Me_ " scrawled across the tiny heart.

She slipped the ring onto her left ring finger and then looked at me. "Obviously ... I've seen that you have your own dog tags, but maybe you can just stick that one in your pocket or something? I want you to know that I'm going to be here, loving and waiting, for you no matter how long it takes you to get back to me."

It didn't take more than a millisecond to know what to do here. I'd mentally reached the place where I was ready to shed my Rangeman skin and switch out my all-black uniform for a desert one. I'd already added a symbol of my old life as soon as I got the call and agreed to put myself and everything I love on the line so I could get two men like me back to those who love them. I tugged my tags out from under my t-shirt and pulled them off over my head.

"What are you doing?" She asked, watching me in a way that let me know she'd still been hoping I'd go on the lam with her instead of overseas like I promised decades ago to always do.

With two hands I dropped my dog tags around her neck. Seeing them settle between the breasts I spent the night loving, had me feeling something I rarely do ... _fear_. If I don't make it back to her ... I cut off that thought. I _will_ be back and she _will_ be waiting for me. Nothing else can be considered.

"I want you to have something of mine to cling to when you get scared if it can't be me," I explained, when she looked down at her chest and my identification lying against it, before she met my eyes again.

She caught both in one fist and brought them close to her face. I'd have given anything to know what she was thinking and feeling at that moment, but I didn't want either of us to hurt more than we did already.

I told myself that saying goodbye in my apartment would be easier than an airport because Ella would be here within a minute of my departure so she could help console and distract Stephanie, when really the location was a selfish choice. If she broke down in front of me, I wouldn't be able to leave her standing there. I'd either want to take her with me, or I'd get two men killed by wasting time we don't have by suggesting possible replacements for me. Neither were options.

"This is probably the wrong thing to say here," she said, after a minute of sifting through her thoughts, "but I swear to God, Ranger, if you don't come home soon, I _will_ hunt you down and kick your ass."

Despite her worries, it was the _perfect_ thing to say. If she cried right now, I'd lose it.

"I'll be back, Babe. If you believe nothing else, believe that I _will_ survive any kind of hell just to be able to come home to you ... like I've done every single time in the past."

"Is there a number you can program into my phone that I can use if you don't call me as quickly as I'd like?"

"I'm afraid not, but I will be in touch as soon as I'm able to be."

" _In person_ or _over the phone_?" She asked, clutching my tags tightly in her hand again.

"Whichever is faster."

"I don't like it, but I'll take it. Do what you have to do, but please, please, _please_... don't take any unnecessary risks."

"I'll do what I can," was all I could promise her.

I swore I would never lie to her ... and I won't start now. When she kissed me goodbye at the door, she held onto me so securely, and for so long, as I took the stairs to the lobby ... I could feel the impression of my dog tags as if I were still wearing them.

And now here I am with an equally battle-worn set of ID I hope won't be needed, waiting for another round of shit to explode around me, with Stephanie almost six thousand miles away from this shitty location. I _will_ see her again, but there are a few things I need to do, and a couple of assholes to eliminate, first.

"Mission's a go," I told my men, once I got word that this latest intel still checked out. "We're to go in, take out these fuckers before they get organized and become a bigger problem for us later on, and get the fuck out with our guys. Got it?"

"Yes, Sir," they all said.

" _Move,_ " I ordered them, getting this job underway as we headed towards the supposedly 'abandoned' building that'd been taken over by a small-scale terrorist cell. The only thing abandoned here is common sense and human decency, the building is currently housing them and any hostage they can get their fucking hands on. "Don't let a single asshole walk away from this."

After a series of nods, we moved in for the kill. The information and pictures of the fuckers responsible for this that I was given when I landed in-country was solid, but we knew with fewer 'followers' of this half-assed organization, meant they could pick up and move out with no warning, which they've done three times so far since I arrived here. My skin began to prickle in warning five minutes after we started to advance.

My mouth was in the process of ordering Gonzoloz, and the brown/black Labrador named 'Little Bear' I'd insisted on taking ... I wasn't leaving without our men even if I had to chase them across the fucking country by scent alone, to freeze. My hand already had a fistful of Mike's uniform in it when gravity helped bring his foot down too close to the trigger of a hidden explosive. The blast was loud and damaging. Before I could assess the extent of their injuries, I dragged Mike and L.B. towards a freestanding rock pile that had better not have anyone fucking hidden behind it, while relying on McCurry and Sosa to cover us. From the blood I saw coating the sand, and the grunts, curses, and whimpers, my team were making, I wasn't surprised to find both Gonzoloz and Little Bear missing part of their legs.

This is what nightmares are built on. I have too good of an idea of what the condition of the men we'd be extracting will be, but now two of my own people got injured, not only on my watch ... but at the end of my own fucking arm.

I radioed for a chopper and made sure it was known to the unlucky sonovabitch at the other end, that heads wouldn't just roll if I lost my men, they'd be blown the fuck off one by one if Mike and L.B. don't get immediate help. My brain was already reconfiguring the mission, now that the blast gave away our position, but my body was acting on autopilot to save my men. Not wanting to ever be at a disadvantage, I'd gone through the training that makes me qualified to be a Medic if I was ever inclined to switch from killing men to healing them on jobs like this one, so I located my kit without needing to look and got to work trying to slow the blood loss on both patients, with McCurry and Sosa helping wherever and whenever I told them to.

I know Mike Gonzoloz's wife is eight months pregnant, and if he dies on us ... that will affect his daughter before she even has a chance to be born. I can't live with that on my conscience as well. It was hard enough knowing Julie had been living her life without me, and I was still mostly alive during the time I was away from her. I won't put another family through that.

I was concerned, really concerned, seeing the extent of injuries and hearing and seeing the pain-filled winces as I treated them, but my gut eased marginally when I heard the Medevac chopper getting closer. Our surroundings were eerily still aside from the particles still falling from the air to litter the bomb site while we kept our asses in one spot as we awaited a pickup. The enemy appeared to be just sitting on their asses so they wouldn't waste any bullets putting them in something other than us. It isn't happening.

"Sosa," I barked. "Keep your head down and your body concealed, but be prepared to assist us or to blow anything away that's moving when it shouldn't be. I don't want them firing at us as we're getting Mike and L.B. loaded up."

"Yes, Sir."

"McCurry, keep one eye on me and the other on Sosa."

"Got it, Sir," he replied.

I battled the wind, noise, and propeller-thrown debris, the chopper produced when it landed as close to us as it was safe to. I didn't like it, but I had to pass responsibility of half my team over to someone else until I was in a better position to care for them.

I double-timed it back to my men, and the three of us watched the chopper take off with our men and everything, and every part, belonging to them on board, while scanning the area, ready to happily open fire on anyone who tried to keep it grounded. The fact that there was no anti-aircraft action taken, lent more credibility to us not only being more powerful physically, but also intellectually. This is a Stark Street situation in sandier soil.

I addressed my men when our injured team members were on their way to a different phase of hell. "We appear to be dealing with recreational assholes instead of professional ones, so there's a ten percent chance they're relying on IEDs and a prayer to keep us away from them and believe we'll abandon the mission ..."

Sosa snorted in a cocky manner. "As if."

I allowed my features to soften momentarily. "I like your attitude. If there's any chance I can still get our men out, I'm taking it."

"We're with you," McCurry agreed.

"Happy to hear it. We'll stick to our original plan, but we now know we're walking through a literal minefield. I'm not in the mood to report any more casualties, so I'm taking point. If one finger of mine moves, you keep your bodies fucking still. Do you understand me? If you see me hesitate at all, you don't even _breathe_ until I give you the go-ahead to."

"Yes, Sir," was repeated by both.

I had to put Gonzoloz and Little Bear out of my mind until our mission is completed successfully, but I know they'll be at the forefront of, and weigh heavily on, it the second we get the men we're after on another chopper out.

"Let's move," I told them, not allowing any of us second thoughts.

Despite the sound and activity that had preceded our arrival ... the darkness, debris, and smoke from the explosion still hovering over the field between us and the building we're about to overtake, provided a small amount of coverage to hide our approach. Although we aren't a complete surprise, the fact that we hadn't aborted the rescue attempt, even being down two members of our team, took balls they don't think we have. They'll die for that assumption.

We couldn't shoot RPGs into the place, or make it a target from the air to wipe out the majority of our enemies so we could just pick off the few who were left standing. We have to go in fast and hard but carefully so we don't get our men executed or ourselves killed. McCurry and I took out the fuckers who were in charge of guarding the building, and we hauled ass before anyone had a chance to retaliate.

The life-sized sand castle had seen better days long before we got here, but it sustained a few more war wounds courtesy of us just for housing extremist assholes who don't deserve to be alive, let alone receiving shelter. And as an added 'Fuck you', we simultaneously broke in the scraps of wood that'd been acting as doors so we could enter the shithole.

I was barely able to suppress my urge to gag. The stench of unwashed bodies, blood, and excrement, hung in the air as thick and cloying as Jersey smog. I'm no longer feeling optimistic that we got here in time, but I refuse to leave without them. In my mind, leaving a man behind has never been, and _will_ _never_ be, an option. Even if I'm only able to give their families back the bodies of their loved ones, it will help me sleep better at night ... if I can manage to sleep at all.

With this being similar to search-and-seize jobs we've done together in the past, we separated inside. McCurry took the bullet-pocked stairs to the second floor. Sosa headed for the dug out area beneath us that we know could be used as a basement. I kept the first floor so I could provide backup to either one if I turned up nothing. _Nothing_ wasn't what I discovered. I turned a corner and walked into a real life horror movie. The rifle that I had pointed at the men started firing a millisecond after I ID'd one of the faces as someone we know who's connected to the kidnapping. His head exploded without me giving him another thought. I was already moving onto the asshole right behind him.

I couldn't let myself think about anything ... their death expressions, the now visible brain matter, or the sights, smells, and sounds, we'll have to remember for the rest of our lives once we leave here. All my mental and physical energy went into reaching the two Sergeants I came for. Whoever or whatever comes between me and my objective will be quickly destroyed.

I sensed McCurry in coming behind me before I heard the double-click sound we have in place to identify each other. "Upstairs is clear."

"Sosa isn't back. And I'm good here. See if he needs another trigger finger."

"Yes, Sir."

And he left me with whatever was in the next room. I took out the fucker who didn't have the time or the brains to duck back behind the jamb of a previously blasted-out door, so I made sure he never had to think again. Who he's been torturing is who I'm here to bring home. There were two more wannabe terrorists to remove before I could get to work cutting the dirty ropes that are attaching our men's arms, ankles, necks, and mid-sections, to the stone wall behind them.

The two different hair colors, and the cammies that are dirty and torn in places but still recognizable, are all that told me that they are the two Soldiers we want. Their faces, heads, forearms, and the skin exposed beneath the rips in the legs of their uniforms, appeared to be one large, swollen bruise with sporadic gashes that already look and smell infected.

" _Holy fuck!_ " Sosa hissed under his breath, when he came back with McCurry.

"Later," I bit out, "now's not the time. Help me get them out of here."

I used my radio to get two more Soldiers airlifted out. I gave our coordinates and arranged for their extraction with a time and pick-up location. I did what I could to get the Sergeants cleaned up, got some much-needed meds into them, and we got started on rehydrating them, before we put them in more pain by making them move after weeks of marathon walks followed by periods of absolute immobility. Hell is too good of a place for the fuckers who'd do this to another human being, let alone two of them.

Sosa and McCurry helped carry Sgt. Terrance Gary out, while I got an arm around Sgt. Emery Kendrick and carefully maneuvered him over the rubble and bodies and out of his weeks-long nightmare. It was past time for them to get back to their families who will hopefully be able to help them survive this. Our time to head home will come, but we'll stay behind to document and provide photographic evidence of the rescue and the part we played in it.

Aside from Gonzoloz and Little Bear getting injured, this had been an almost seamless in-and-out job. But seeing the legs of Mike and L.B. separate from their bodies, and knowing that their lives have just been changed forever, changed mine. It didn't help that I also recognized the broken spirits and knew all the feelings behind the death-acceptance in the eyes of the two men we just rescued. I can already predict that this mission isn't going to be over in my mind for a long time to come. That I'm now much closer to being able to see my woman again is the _only_ thing that kept my boots moving under the weight of everything I'd been helpless to prevent.

 **A/N: The dog tag/heart ring combo that Stephanie got for her and Ranger, is something I saw online.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Everybody and anything familiar belongs to Janet. The mistakes are solely mine. Thank you for your reviews, favorite and alert adds, and most of all ... for giving this story a chance.**

 **Chapter 2**

 **STEPH POV**

"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked Morelli, not pleased that he was hanging out in my parking lot when I'd made a last minute decision to stop at my apartment and pick up some more clothes.

I've been stressed enough, trying to keep positive thoughts on where Ranger is and how he's doing, which is a bitch in itself, and only receiving one impersonal military message that I interpreted as _'The person you love beyond all thought and reason is probably still alive, but we don't want you to get your hopes up. You'll see him again only after we've gotten what we want from him'._ Sure ... it's a bitchy way of looking at their appreciation for the service Ranger is providing, but not being able to reach or talk to Batman is getting to me in a major way.

When I make coffee in the morning, it gets cold as I zone out ... wondering if he's been able to eat and sleep properly. When I go out on an apprehension with my Range-partner of the day, I pray to God that no one is, or has been, shooting at him. Whenever I have dinner at his parents' house, now an almost every night-thing, I want to cry because I recognize the same fear and gut-wrenching worry on Mrs. Manoso's face that I know I'm walking around with.

I think it's physically impossible for me to love another human more than I love Ranger, but it does take balls to get through some parts of loving a man who has a purpose in life almost as all-consuming as his love for me. As much as any and all separation and not-knowing hurts ... I'll get through it because Ranger will be at the other end of this.

"Guess Manoso's not back yet," Joe said, not doing a good job of hiding his joy at me being Ranger-less.

"If you want to keep your face intact, you'll leave now without saying anything else. I'm not in the mood."

"So he's turned you violent as well as anti-social?"

"What can I say ... I like hanging out with the guys on the job and off. And I'm loving one specific section of Newark. I'm plenty social with the people I actually want to talk to."

"Which isn't me or your family?"

" _You_ I haven't even thought about, let alone want to speak to. And _my_ family is none of _your_ business. Go home ... to _your_ home. Tank made me promise to call him anytime I have a problem, and you are quickly becoming one."

"I care about you, Cupcake."

"So you say, but you've always had a funny way of showing that. I think it's more your ego you care about. And it pisses you off that the guys at the station still bust your balls over the fact that I wanted/and still desperately want _Ranger_ and not _you_."

"Not all of us have a ton of dirty money to throw at someone ..."

"I'm not a gold digger or a whore, _you prick!_ Money doesn't mean shit to me ... _the man_ does. I could be a billionaire or broke, homeless or in a mansion on the coast, permanently disfigured or perfect, and you'd still need a crowbar to pry us away from each other. I'm not dealing with you, Morelli. Leave now or I'm going to shoot you. Eddie offered to handle the paperwork on the case if I do."

"The psycho really has brainwashed you, hasn't he?"

I was about to get back in my car, scrapping the extra-clothes plan, but I whirled around and almost broke my finger jamming it into his chest.

"While _you_ were on a friggin' boat somewhere, drinking beer and planning when and how you were gonna get laid again, Ranger was putting himself between a bullet and anything living or dead, fighting for his life and the lives of all the men with him. He even started a company just so he could be sure they stay okay after they come home. So don't you fucking dare insult him! He continues to go through hell while you stay safe and sound, acting like a horndog. He didn't desert me like you've been hoping he does. He's not here right now because he'll always choose to put himself on the line to keep even asses like you out of the line of fire. If anyone is psycho, it's _you,_ which explains why you're stalking me instead of forgetting everything about me. Ranger's as _un_ selfish as you are narcissistic. You've never appreciated what you have, and you still blame everyone else for your own fuck-ups. _Grow up_... or better yet, just _go away_."

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

"Unfortunately ... I do. Ranger's mom and I have gotten pretty close, and like any proud Mama would, she let me see all the pictures she has of him. He was so young, _too fucking young_ , to see and do what he's had to. You can stare at a pictures taken six months, a year, two years apart, and actually see the look in his eyes go from empowered and eager to fight for what he believes in, to far-too-experienced and no longer shocked at the amount of pain and evil people can inflict on one another. And ungrateful assholes like you just go on with your life, never thinking about those men and women who don't even know if they'll still have a life in an hour. To paraphrase a song Bobby was listening to, hypocrites like you say how important they are as soon as a war breaks out, but forget them a second after they leave to fight it, and ignore everything they need if they do make it back home. I've always wondered if why you stuck with something long enough to become a homicide detective, is just so your job would mostly involve victims who can't shoot back. Or maybe it's so you can throw your weight around and order officers like Carl and Big Dog to go get the bad guys for you so you don't get hurt ... and automatically blame guys like mine for murders you can't solve instead of thanking them for everything they do in this country before and after they're deployed."

I'm sure Carl, and the fellow detectives at the TPD, wouldn't be thrilled with my summary of what they do every day, but I'm too pissed at 'Poor Me' Morelli to play fair or to shut up. These past few weeks of little sleep, nail-biting fear, and hearing never-been-told-before Ranger-stories from the Manoso parents, siblings, and Rangeguys ... about the baby, boy, and now the less-mysterious man that I love, has my heart ready to burst at just the thought of seeing Batman. But it also has my temper set to blow when it comes to the Italian _Jackass_ \- not stallion - who decided it'd be fun to spend his evening annoying the shit out of me. My emotions need a target and he essentially volunteered to be one by not leaving me the hell alone when I'd hit the end of my stress-tolerance ten minutes after Ranger left.

"I bet when you got bored with Navy life, you came home to a pan of lasagne and a family ready to indulge and excuse you again. While those like my Ranger who have to shoot people everyday just to stay alive themselves, come home to insults, hurtful questions, or nothing at all ... like they were just off vacationing at Club-freakin'-Med or something."

I should step down off my soapbox, but I passed rational ten minutes ago. He's always known what buttons to push to get a reaction out of me, and he's standing on the biggest one right now.

"You get Grandma Bella threatening anyone who calls you out on your crap, and your mom babies you more than she does her own grandchildren, but the good guys are essentially left all alone to deal with a completely different way of thinking, feeling, and living. Tank and the guys have a number of buddies who came back missing parts of their bodies, and too many are missing actual _heartbeats_ when their families get to see them again. The crap you keep spewing to anyone who'll listen about Ranger and his men makes me want to throw up ... on you. A _real man_ protects his loved ones, other people, his country or at least its citizens. _You_ hide behind them and even use them to get yourself out of trouble. Ranger has _earned_ every bit of the respect he's given and it's pathetic that you can't see why that's so important."

It's a stupid, dangerous, and insulting, misconception, that if you don't talk much ... you're either dumb or you don't have any actual feelings. But loving Ranger, and becoming pretty good friends with his men, I found out the exact opposite is true. Their brains solve problems at a frightening speed and they all feel _too damn much!_ It's physically painful to watch them struggle to contain or express their feelings and thoughts on top of coming up against assholes like Joe looking down on them, when he really should be kissing the fucking ground they walk on for defending his right to be a dickhead.

When Ranger took off his dog tags and slid them over my head and onto me, my breath caught and my body went dead-still. I swear I could actually smell _him ..._ the sweat, evil shower gel, and his adrenaline rushes and crashes, not just the metal his body had warmed up. And call me crazy, but I sensed every emotion he felt while he'd been wearing them. Images flashed in my mind of what his life must've been like at the time. He wasn't handing me a 'memento', or offering a talisman to ward off something bad, he was voluntarily giving me a piece of himself ... and we both knew it.

I heard a vehicle slowing down to pull into my apartment's lot, and my heart started racing when my neck started tingling. That can only mean one thing ... _Ranger's home!_ I've been dreaming of this moment for almost a month ... and I don't want to share it with Morelli. The jerk isn't about to leave, though.

"Stephanie, use your head for once," Morelli said to my back, since I'd already turned and was about to break Olympic records to reach the black truck that hadn't even stopped moving yet. "It's not safe for you to be around him. You don't know what guys like him are capable of when they get back home and have to act normal again."

My anger had been about to reach stroke-level, but there was room for a little more rage apparently.

"Thanks to the guys being there for me and helping me through this, and Ranger sharing a little of his past with me before he left, I _do_ have a slight idea of what he's been through. The absolute least I can do is say 'thank you' for risking his life to help whoever was in trouble now ... and I plan on doing _way more_ than just thanking him for his service."

"He's dangerous, Cupcake ..."

"No ... _I'm_ going to be the dangerous one if you keep using that name and tone on me. _You_ don't know what the fuck _you're_ talking about with Ranger, or anyone else like him, so don't tell me when I should be around him, or how I should take care of - and love - my guy."

"He's a fucking robot, Stephanie ... he's not ' _your guy_ '."

"There is _nothing_ robotic about. He's a warmer and more loving human being than you could ever hope to be. And he _is_ definitely my guy. I've got his heart and ID to prove it," I informed him, feeling the metal of Ranger's dog tags against my skin, kept private under my shirt, and the heart on my finger that Morelli looked at but wouldn't comment on. Both symbols have stayed exactly where Ranger and I put them. "And I do know exactly how to make him feel better. Unlike you, I pay attention to what I say is important to me, and Ranger surpassed important long ago. If you weren't so wrapped up in yourself, you would've seen that and wouldn't be here now. Now _leave!_ "

I went to move away from him so I could give my Soldier the welcome home he deserves, but once again Morelli fucked up my life. As I took a step towards Ranger, Joe grabbed the back of my shirt to prevent me from going anywhere, catching the chain of the tags in the process and jerking those, too, so they all but choked me as they came out of hiding. Touching me at all was a huge mistake on his part, touching something special of ours had me set to hurt him and warn him to keep his fucking hands to himself, but Ranger was already out of his rent-a-truck and bearing down on my past-life problem.

"Let go of me before I hurt you or Ranger kills you," I hissed at Joe, but his time was already up.

In two seconds flat, Ranger had left the truck, leaving the engine still running and the driver's door open. He had Morelli's neck in a death grip and the offending arm bent backwards towards breaking-point in the other after he'd pushed me to safety behind his body. Joe's forehead hit the lot's macadam _hard_. I didn't feel bad for him at all. In his warped mined, walking into the Morelli garage on my own when I was just a curious kid, absolved him of any responsibility even though he'd already fingered half the girls in neighborhood by then, which to me made him a systematic pervert instead of just an equally-curious kid. So him not leaving means I don't have to feel anything except glad to see him put in his place for once.

I thought Ranger would stop there, but when Joe started struggling to get to his feet again ... all hell broke loose. I wasn't scared for me. Call it naive, but I know in my bones that Ranger would _never_ hurt me. Morelli's a different story, though. I believe Ranger's just been waiting for the opportunity to seriously injure him. Joe trying to control my movements, as well as interfere with this homecoming, wasn't appreciated by me ... and it wasn't going to be tolerated by the Army Ranger who loves me.

The situation escalated when Morelli wouldn't shut up or stop moving, and Ranger refused to let up. He grabbed Joe by the shaggy hair and slammed his head into the ground again. Morelli was belly down and my guy had his knee in the jerk's back, yanking his arms sharply behind him and zip-tying him with apparently no effort or thought at all. He's verbally and mentally toyed with Joe before, but this is something different.

Morelli was left hog-tied, but still Ranger wasn't relaxing his guard.

"You're fucking crazy," Joe shouted, which earned him a kick to the ribs that shut him up quickly.

Or maybe it was Ranger's Glock now pointed at his head, fully engaged, just waiting for a reason to fire, that had him going silent. I was afraid of that, too, but for different reasons.

"Ranger," I said, leaning in close, "you're scaring me. _Please_... I need you to take me home where it's safe."

No reaction on his part. Joe was cursing under his breath, but I think he finally understood the gravity of the situation. One wrong move and he'll be dead. The three of us were all aware of that on some level, and _I'm_ the only one who can prevent it.

I kept talking so Ranger would hopefully know at least subconsciously that it was me touching him. I kept my voice quiet and calm as I pressed myself to his back and held on, switching to what Ranger teasingly calls my 'Bedroom Babe voice', hoping I could break through whatever memory or situation he's currently reliving.

After a few facts Ranger shared before he left, and to keep me from going insane while waiting for him to call or come home ... Tank, Bobby, and Lester, supplied more information that had me making it a point to know the red flags to look for and what I could do to hopefully offset them. Of course, if Morelli would've gone to see _Bob_ instead of _me_ , this whole nightmare could've been avoided.

"Shut up, Joe, before he shuts you up for good," I advised.

I pressed my lips to the bare skin above the collar of Ranger's t-shirt and I felt his body ripple in response.

"Come back to me, Batman," I said to him alone, closing my arms tighter around him. "I need you."

"You both need a shrink," Morelli said, _his lips_ grazing my lot while _I_ kissed Ranger.

I had to fight the urge to kick him myself. " _Shut. Up_."

I really don't care what happens to him now. He did after all handcuff me to my shower while I was naked when everybody and their cousin knew a serial rapist, Ramirez, was stalking me. I _should_ do the world and _me_ a favor and just shoot him right now, but that'd take time away from helping Ranger.

As I felt a few drops of rain start to fall and then quickly pick up speed, I used my body and my voice to move my Warrior away from Joe and towards the truck. Where the hell had Mother Nature been when I could've used a downpour? Morelli wouldn't have risked getting soaked even for the joy he gets from harassing me.

Ranger let me maneuver him into the vehicle, but I can tell he isn't completely with me. He's still my Ranger, but he's also ... _gone_. He responded to my voice or when I touched him, but it felt like he was somewhere I couldn't reach him. That scared me as much as it ticked me off. My Batman is _always_ there for me, and having him right next to me, yet worlds away, is terrifying. I _should_ be better at helping him like he continues to help/save me.

With one eye on my guy, I called another one who has gone above and beyond to keep me mostly sane while Ranger was away.

"Tank ... what do I do?" I said, even before he could ask what's wrong.

Tank isn't Ranger, but he's been his best friend long enough to not need any explanations.

"He's home?" He asked.

"Yes and no," I told him, saying Ranger's name quietly again, hoping to bring him out of whatever hellhole he's mentally stuck in and back to Trenton with me.

"What happened?"

"Ranger drove to my apartment, since he obviously couldn't know I've all but moved into his apartment while he's been gone, but Morelli was here waiting to ambush me and he wouldn't leave even though I told him to. When Ranger pulled into my lot, Joe grabbed my shirt to stop me from going to him ..."

" _Fuck_."

"I didn't know Joe was going to be camped out in my lot," I said defensively, "or I wouldn't have stopped. I was going to call you to get rid of him, but then Ranger was here ..."

I handled things badly in the past, but I realized that not only couldn't I stop loving Ranger, those feelings just got stronger the more I was with him, so Morelli became a pain in just Trenton's ass, not mine any longer. I didn't want any of Ranger's men, and especially his best friend, to think I was doing anything except worrying and waiting for Ranger to come back safely to me.

"Relax, Steph. I know. No one doubts your love for - or your loyalty to - the Boss. I couldn't help but notice that he gave you his tags, so Ranger doesn't doubt you either. How bad is the situation? More importantly, what's Ranger doing now?"

"Right now, he's not doing anything, though he seems really interested in the windshield and how the rain from a passing cloud is sliding down it."

"Fuck," he said again.

"Is now a good time to mention that Morelli is trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey next to my car? And he's probably only semi-conscious, and he may have crapped himself because he was looking down the barrel of a gun not being held by someone afraid to pull the trigger."

"He's alive?"

"Yeah, though I'm still really tempted to kill him for today alone."

"You didn't untie him?"

"Of course _not_! Getting Ranger away from Joe before he killed him was way more important to me. Morelli can rot in hell for all I care, but I don't want Ranger to suffer a second longer than he has to."

There was a slight pause. "Alright. I'll call the TPD and have someone get the asshole. If he respected what his badge represents, he would've followed protocol. He should know better than to intentionally piss off someone who's newly back."

" _Wait_... there are rules about how to approach returning servicemen and women?" I asked, wondering why I never thought about that before.

Seeing Ranger's reaction, though, had me thinking of nothing but. _My_ Military Man should definitely be given special treatment, not because there's something wrong with him, but because he deserves to be treated like the hero I've always thought of him as.

"Yes," Tank answered, "but the fucker let his perversion with you overrule his training. He'll pay for that."

"I'm glad to hear it, but what about Ranger?"

I was trying to keep my voice conversational so maybe it'd sink in that he's home and with me now, but I'm worried that I caused a situation that can't be fixed.

"Did he hurt you?" Tank asked, when I'd gone quiet.

" _No!_ He _wouldn't_."

"I had to ask."

"I know, but I don't like that you did."

"Good," he told me. "That's the kind of faith in him he needs right now. Do you know your way around Deal?"

"The entire city?"

"Yes."

"Maybe not the whole place, but I know a few areas fairly well."

"Program 18 Marine Drive into the GPS and head there."

"What's in Deal?"

"One of Ranger's houses."

"You're kidding me?"

"I'm not. He had a house built on the ocean so he, I, and a few guys we both know who still serve, will have a place to decompress whenever we or they need to."

"So _that's_ where he was staying during the Ramos thing?"

"Yes. You would've ended up there eventually. He purchased the lot even before he bought the building that would become Rangeman, but he only had a house built on the land after he met you. I've always believed _you_ were his reason for it. It's the three-story, gray siding and stone, house at the end of the road on the edge of the water."

"Thanks, Tank. I don't know how to thank you for ... well ... _everything_."

"Just get him through this, and that's all the thanks I'll need."

"I will. I promise."

"Call me _immediately_ if he gets to be more than you can handle or if you feel threatened by him."

"I can handle any part of him, but I _will_ call if I need you."

"Remember what we talked about?"

"Yes. Turn off all the ringers on the phones so the sudden ringing won't startle him ... don't ever try to remove his gun from his body ... don't whisper if I do talk to someone _... do not_ sneak up on him whether he's awake or asleep."

"You've got the basics. Do you want me to take you both there? I can be at your apartment in six minutes."

I looked at Ranger, feeling extremely protective of him. "No. I think I can get through to him if I have time and a quiet place. Let me get us to Deal, and if I have to, I'll call you after I get him inside. I don't want to make him worse or put him in a position to accidentally go after you. He does appear to be responding slightly to my voice, which makes me feel a shitload better."

"Keep me informed."

"Of course. And thanks again."

"He's more than a friend, he's like a brother to me. I'd do anything for him ... even allow someone else to watch out for and protect him."

"Even if she's the cause?"

" _Morelli_ did this. If he had a brain cell left, he'd have kept his fucking mouth shut and his hands off you. I'm thinking of letting him learn his lesson a little longer, or maybe I'll go one better and give him some one-on-one time with me, Brown, and Santos, before his cop buddies drag their asses to the scene."

"Punch him at least once for me. He can stay tied up in my lot until hell freezes over. I'm not coming back here," I said. "I'll call you as soon as I get him settled ... and can you ask Ella to keep an eye on Rex for me? He's happy in Ranger's kitchen, but he'll need fresh water in the morning, a top-off of his food dish, and probably a little bit of human interaction."

"I'll get him and bring him down to the control room until you're back. The fluffball will put in for some alone time just to get a break from the all the activity there."

He disconnected and I glanced at the silent Superhero beside me.

"Ranger?" I asked. "Can you talk to me? Can you tell me where you are, or what's going on in there? I need you back with me."

I tentatively touched his hand as I spoke. And while his expression and miles-away stare didn't change, his fingers curled tight around mine. I was so relieved, I almost cried. Who am I kidding? I cried like I did when I realized that the only thing I accomplished from jumping off my parents' garage roof as a kid was successfully breaking my arm. He _has_ to be alright. I won't accept anything else. Ranger and I have a few things in common and one of the biggies is we're both resilient. And although we didn't say it out loud until the morning he left, we also decided long ago to never give up on each other. As long as I'm here for him, he'll come back to me.

I was scared shitless to break the only link I have to him, so I drove to the Beach Bat Cave with only one hand on the wheel, praying that I don't crash while silently thanking Tank again for telling me what to look for. If I hadn't known that Ranger's place is at the very end of the road, I never would've spotted it through the trees. The 'gray and stone home' he mentioned was really the color of natural slate, and it being built into the side of a hill overlooking the water, made it almost disappear into its surroundings ... which I'm sure was Ranger's intention.

He has to spot you long before you're even aware he's in the vicinity. The trees hid his home on land, and he'd see and hear you coming if you approached by water, so he's protected himself and his property without having to announce that he's a security specialist with extensive privacy concerns.

I squeezed his hand hoping for a reaction back. He didn't let go, but I also didn't get a deliberate response. As long as he isn't trying to push me away, or push me period in a worst case scenario like I've read about, I'm happy. I'd be even happier if he was calling me 'Babe' and kissing me senseless because he missed me as much as I missed him.

"I'm here for anything you need, good or bad," I assured him, as if he'd been aware of what was running around in my head.

He normally can read my mind, who's to say he's not now? I parked in the driveway behind the house and looked at our home away from home. It's a pretty place, as well as pretty functional. It has two stories from the ground up, but it also has one floor built into the mini-mountain supported by a stacked-rock foundation. This place won't be collapsing or sliding into the water any time soon. The white-spindled porches look surprisingly welcoming, though knowing Ranger, the spindles shoot grenades and I'd bet my last dollar that the sub-story also doubles as a disaster shelter or an impenetrable panic room.

"Okay, Batman. We're here," I said, pocketing the truck keys and turning to face him. "Can you come back to me? Or at least not think of me as the enemy if I try to move you out of the vehicle and into the house? Maybe I should've had Tank come with us. He's probably the only guy who can physically move you if you aren't able to move yourself."

He's still in zombie-mode, but I didn't sense the same disconnect I've felt in the past when I hurt him without realizing I had the power to.

"I'm going to go around to your side of the truck," I explained, keeping my voice calm and quiet so he wouldn't sense my fear. "Then I'm going to somehow get us into the house and we'll figure this out together."

Fuck ... how _do_ I get us into the house? Tank told me where to go, but he didn't give me a cheat sheet to Bat Cave Security 101 that I'll no doubt need in order to accomplish that.

I'm not kidding, my phone buzzed at exactly that moment. I'd turned off the ringer after talking to Tank, but even the hum of the vibrate feature had Ranger flinching and his fists clenching.

"How did you know?" I asked Tank, without bothering with a 'Hello'.

"I was tracking your bag and realized my concern for Ranger had my brain fucked. The code is 12-14-28. There's a key for the back door hidden in the sprinkler head at the corner of the shed, four from its door."

"Paranoid, much?"

" _Cautious_ is the word we use. How is he?"

"Still not moving with an almost vacant stare."

"You'll get through to him."

I'm having serious doubts about that. " _How?_ Nothing I do seems to be working."

I could feel his hesitation.

"Tank? If there's something that can bring him back to me faster, I want to know what it is."

"I'm not comfortable talking about this."

"Who cares about comfort?" I said, frustrated beyond all reason at this point.

One comment from Bobby, warning me that even if Ranger came home soon, he may need some time alone before he feels ready, or that it's safe, to see me, had me doing my own 'research' on PTSD on nights I couldn't sleep, but reading about its effect on someone is _veeerrry_ different than actually living it, even when some of the stuff I've read could apply to me, too.

Tank must have felt my rising panic because he gave in. "Fine. When do _you_ feel the closest to _him_?"

My face instantly turned red. I know the answer to that one, but I don't want to put that image in Tank's head. Now _I'm_ just as uncomfortable as he is talking.

"I can't think about _that_ when he's like _this_ ," I said.

"If he didn't trust you, Steph, you wouldn't be alive right now. You know him better than you think."

"I hope so." I paused, questioning admitting this to him right. "I'm scared, Tank. Really, really, scared."

"He came straight to _you,_ Steph. He didn't alert me that he's back. He didn't tell his family to meet him at the airport so his mom would be able to relax. He needed _you_."

"And he has me. Thanks. I think I just needed to hear that _I'm_ enough."

"You've been all he needs since he met you. We were all just waiting for the day you'd finally understand that."

"I do now."

"Good. Bring him back to us."

"I'm going to do my damnedest, once I get him into the house ... _if_ he'll come with me."

"He will."

That was all the assurance I got, and strangely enough, all I needed.

I stuffed my cell into my bag and got out of Ranger's rented vehicle. I hauled ass to get the hidden house key, unscrewing the top of it and feeling around a little until my fingers located a key shape, and I came back to Ranger I hope before he missed me.

"Okay, Big Guy, let's get you inside," I said into the open window before I approached the door. I slowly opened it and leaned in, telling him what I was doing the entire time. "I hope you're able to hear me and know that I'm just trying to help you."

I gently kissed the corner of his mouth and then I picked up his hand and guided him out of the truck and into a place he's familiar with. Any other time, the desire to explore my new surroundings, never mind an actual home Ranger had built, would be at the top of my to-do list, but the man himself came before the need to learn more about him.

His hand kept a death grip on mine as I talked him through all of my movements. My heart wanted to explode with love, protectiveness, and possessiveness, as he allowed me to lead him from the driveway, into the back room of the house, through the gray tile/black granite/mahogany-cabineted kitchen, up the carpeted-stairs, and down the hallway into the master bedroom.

"I'm not sure where you want to go, or what you want me to do, but the bedroom is usually your preferred destination with me, so it seems like a good place to start. Since you tend to sleep in your Batman birthday suit, I'm going to make you comfortable before I do the same."

He wasn't in uniform, not in a military one at least, probably not wanting to draw attention to what I know he does when he uses 'the wind' in the description of a job he's about to do. He had on the all-black uniform I'm very familiar with. His Rangeman t-shirt was peeled away before I bent to untie his boots and urge them and his socks off. His pants I hesitated on, but the hand gripping my shoulder gave me the confidence that I'm doing the right thing here.

Before I tackled his cargoes and the gun tucked back inside the waistband of them, I slipped my shirt over my head and pressed my skin to his much bigger, much warmer body. Just from not being able to completely block out Mary Lou and Valerie's 'mom' talk when all three of us are together, I know skin-to-skin contact helps babies bond with their mothers, so it isn't a giant leap for me to think my skin pressing into his would help connect us.

It seemed to work better and faster than anything else. Ranger's mouth suddenly sought mine and I sigh-sobbed into it. No matter what was standing in our way at what time, our desire for each other _always_ blocked out everything else ...

 **A/N: The song Steph referred to is "Why (The Veterans Anthem)" by Soldier Hard, with the sentiments behind "Shame On Ya'll (remix)" also mixed in.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Every familiar character or scene belongs to Janet. The mistakes are solely mine. Warnings for a little bedroom/bathroom '** _ **physical**_ **' therapy.**

 **Chapter 3**

 **Ranger/then Steph's POV**

Coming home to find Morelli near Stephanie wasn't safe for anyone under normal circumstances, but when I saw his hand yanking her tags and her body backwards, my mind left Trenton and went straight back to Hell. The situation involved different people, yet I saw my own hand pulling Gonzoloz back towards me by his tags and the collar of his uniform. His and L.B.'s bodies were once again losing too much blood and half of it was covering Sosa, McCurry, and I, as we all fought to save them while keeping each other alive. The distinct metallic scent was clogging my nose and I saw red everywhere I looked.

The scene changed before I could stop it and my M4 was spraying more blood, bone, and brain matter, across the sand and stone. In my line of work, an eye for an eye goes one step further. It's their blood for any of mine that's spilled. You never get used to the sight, sounds, and smell, of someone dying, you just learn to block it out faster ... until you can't anymore.

Rescuing two Soldiers should be something to be proud of, but the images of their tortured bodies, and that specific look we all wear after experiencing combat, the one I see reflected back at me in a glass of wine or in the bathroom mirror at night when my life slows down and I have too much time to think, had me recalling the worst the world has to offer and the part I played in the destruction. I actively try not to regret any part of my life, but what I've seen and done takes its toll.

I wasn't aware of time, of location, or much else, but somehow I knew Stephanie was with me and I trust our connection as much as I trust the men I've gone into battle with. Seeing her in danger shot me right back into the same nightmare I just returned from. An innocent being harmed at the hands of someone evil, I can't stomach and will never tolerate. Steph gave me a reason to keep going, and _anyone_ who tries to fuck with that - or her - would pay.

I heard her voice but not the words and I felt her all around me, yet I wasn't able to fight my way out of my mission and return wholly to her. Mental health professionals will say seeing one dead body over the course of your life is traumatic, but there's no measuring the trauma caused by seeing dozens of them at one time and knowing you're the man who made them that way. That's not even factoring in having to watch your own buddies get blown up or shot up only inches away from you so you not only mourn them, you have to relive the last moments of their lives for the rest of yours.

I didn't feel much of anything and couldn't get beyond the blood, agony-filled screams, and the images I know have already been added to the pile of shit I'll never forget, until the life-changer she is ... Steph's voice, touch, and the feel of her body, finally penetrated.

I grabbed onto the only lifeline I've had. My mouth slammed down hard on hers as I fought to return to the present and to sanity ... which years back became tied to _her_. She's warm, sweet, and more importantly _alive_. I need it confirmed that I deserved to be spared one more time just so I could come back home and love her. The force behind those feelings went into the kiss and she didn't shy away from it or me. Before I left, Steph said she will always be here for me ... it's finally sinking in that she meant it and isn't going anywhere.

"God ... I love you so frickin' much," she told me.

This time I heard as well as felt it. I wanted to be able to tell her everything going on inside me, but like every other time I've come home from a mission ... I need to see and touch her. Talk would come later. She represents everything good in my life that justifies every bad thing I've had to do in it. In the past, I had to settle for just watching her sleep or talking to her for a few minutes before I headed home to an empty apartment that stayed that way until Tank or my parents came to check on me. But now I have the right to hold her, kiss her, and not stop there.

So I didn't. I gripped her head in one hand and curled my arm hard around her waist, not letting up on the kiss. If I had a clear thought beyond how good she felt and tasted, I'd be concerned for her safety. Some assholes we know refer to her as reckless, but I've always seen her as _fearless_. Tonight is no different. As much as I'm worried about scaring her all over again, she couldn't get close enough to me.

With a slight jump she wrapped her legs around my waist and that was all the encouragement I needed in order to take her down to the bed. I broke our kiss to get some oxygen into my lungs, but I went right back to her mouth. Nothing mattered except getting inside her as quickly as I could so I don't have to think about or see anything but her. I jerked off her sneakers and went to work on her jeans.

She wasn't a passive partner. She unhooked and removed her bra and slid her arms under mine to plaster herself to me. She rubbed herself against the muscles of my chest, using the friction from my skin and her tags to get relief only my body can give her. She wiggled out of her thong while I got my pants open. As hard as it is to believe, when I pushed my way into her, she felt even better than I remember. The memory of this moment took the place of a bad one. My skin felt like it caught fire as I set a pounding rhythm that should've been slower and much more in control for her benefit. Beads of sweat formed at my temples and clung to my skin until our combined movements had them falling occasionally onto her breasts.

I licked them off in-between sucking her nipples and squeezing and flicking the spot above where we're joined to make her lose it before I do. Which will be in another second as I moved my hips faster and tried to bury myself and all the pain I came home with. Her spasm and the noises she couldn't hold back from me, triggered my own groan. Not that it sounded like a groan to me, my ears heard a sound more like the guttural growl from a wounded but still fighting animal. Neither of us wanted to leave the other. I let myself fall on top of her and all of her limbs caught me and wrapped me in the type of security you can't train for.

"I missed you so much," she whispered against my cheek.

"Believe me, Babe, that feeling is entirely mutual. There's no way to top how much I've missed you."

She laughed, but a sob was mixed into it. "Sorry, you won't win this one. I was tempted to ask Tank to send me wherever he thinks you are in case you wanted some additional backup or a cheerleader to boost morale."

"Have you been talking to my mother?"

" _Everyday_ , but that's beside the point. How are you?"

"Better now."

Her body stretched languidly beneath me. "I can tell."

"Did I hurt you?"

"Nope. Did _I_ hurt _you_?"

"You were gentle with me, Babe."

" _Damn_ _it_. I was hoping I rocked your world enough to bring you back to me."

"You did," I said, kissing her again.

"Things didn't go exactly how I'd been fantasizing," she admitted, after a few beats of silence.

I went to disengage our bodies for this conversation, but her legs hooked around my thighs and she wouldn't let me go.

"Don't. I need to know you're actually _home_ /home."

I didn't argue, I needed her for the same reason. I slid my body just enough so I could put my head on the pillow beside hers. Her lips drew back as my dick rubbed her still swollen flesh as I altered my position.

"I made it back to you, Steph, just like I promised."

"You were _physically_ here with me, but mentally you were in another world. Do you remember hog-tying Morelli?"

"No, but now I wish I did." I didn't want to ask her this, but I know I have to. "Is he dead?"

"Last week, I would've thought you were kidding just to make me feel better, but you're actually asking a serious question, aren't you?" She asked me. I hesitated just long enough for her to have her answer. "He's humiliated, which he deserves and a lot more, but he's still alive. _If_ Tank let him live. He was as pissed at the jerk as I was. I'm happy Joe got a taste of what public humiliation feels like, but I'm not sure I'm happy about him being able to still breathe. If he would have for once listened to me, he would've been gone before you arrived ... and we could've had a homecoming that would've registered on the Richter Scale. Not that it didn't turn out pretty good in the end. Can you tell me what happened? Was it the kind of flashback you and Tank warned me could happen with you two and the guys?"

I went quiet again. I despise not being in control ... that she had to witness it, I hate even more. "Yes."

"I'm here to listen if you need or want to talk. If not ... I'll just hold you so you can sleep. You look tired ... and not just in an ' _I'm exhausted_ ' way."

"I feel both," I said. "Exhausted and tired."

I was worried about my body restricting her breathing so she let me move then so she'd be more comfortable, but she immediately turned to cuddle herself into me.

"Go to sleep, then," she said, her lips brushing my chest. "I'll be here when you wake up. I'm already thinking we should stay here indefinitely, so nothing bad can touch you again. Tank knows where we are, though."

"Even when I don't call him ... he knows I'm home."

"I was really freaked out and needed him to tell me what to do. Asking the guys questions and reading books and doing internet searches on the subject, can only get you so far. If I thought having no contact with you when you were away was unbearable, not being able to reach you when you're right beside me was about a billion times worse."

"I'm beside you now."

"You are. You know I'm not even remotely a religious person, but I've never thanked God harder for anything in my life."

"There are no Atheists in foxholes, Steph," I told her.

We all need something to believe in when your life is about to go to Hell and you're worried your soul might be joining it.

"I can tell you I wasn't an Atheist in Trenton when someone I love could actually _be in_ a _foxhole_ somewhere."

She kissed me and then allowed me to get up so I could clean us up a little before she fell asleep. As soon as I was lying on my back again, she crawled on top of me ... to keep me where she could find me, I'd guess. My arms went around her for a similar reason. The sound of my heart beating under her ear provided enough assurance that I'm real and home, and that had her sliding slowly into sleep. Once I was sure she was finally resting, I allowed myself to attempt the same.

 **XOXOXOXOX**

Ranger's first night home was emotionally exhausting for me, but physically as well as psychologically brutal for him. One minute I was dreaming about the two of us making out on the beach of a deserted island, a second later I was starting to wake up as I heard Ranger mumbling something in a language I'd only heard on World News segments, which I had to immediately stop watching because I couldn't sleep or eat after hearing of military involvement anywhere in the world. I had no clue what part of the globe to focus on, so I couldn't relax at all. I stayed stuck on hyper-worried from the moment the door closed behind him. Even Ella hadn't been able to get a smile out of me for weeks.

While my brain was still trying to process the sudden shift between asleep and awake, Ranger suddenly shouted ' _Freeze!_ ' in a tone so desperate to be heard, every hair I have stood on end. Before I knew what was happening, I was pulled backwards by the nape of my neck, _urgently_ not painfully, but it was clear that I need to be moving with him. He dragged me across the bed and onto the floor with him. His big body was shaking with what I hope is only adrenaline as he became an armed human shield between me and a threat only he can see. With one hand, he started checking my naked body for injuries, paying particular attention to my left leg.

A crack of thunder overhead explained this for me. _I_ hear thunder and possibly jump the first time if I'm not expecting it, but then I just think ' _Shit, did I remember to put my windows up in my car_?' Ranger hears the same sound and he believes he's being shot at, bombed, or something even worse that he hasn't been able to talk about yet.

"It's okay," I said in the most soothing voice I could manage when my heart is trying to burst out of my chest for a number of reasons ... love and fear for him topping the list.

I didn't make any sudden moves or touch him beyond where I was already. This wasn't just him just him fighting his inner-self like before. I've gone after skips with him and I _know_ how he reacts when he thinks I'm in danger, and right now he's actively agitated. His body language is screaming ' _under attack!_ ' and I'm not going to do anything to make him. He'd kill himself before he hurts me, and I want to return the favor by not spooking him.

"Ranger ... it's okay. It's only a storm. The thunder just set off a car alarm nearby. You're alright," I continued. "You're in your Deal house with me _. I swear_ , I won't let _anyone_ hurt you."

He did pull away from me this time when he 'came to' and it fully sank in that he's with me here instead of God knows where with who knows who. He released me as abruptly as he grabbed me. And without a word, he double-timed it with his gun to the bathroom. I heard the shower go on and I thought maybe he just needs a few minutes to regroup. This has to be excruciating for him, not being able to predict what's going to trigger him and when. What was truly terrifying, and also what made me feel like I've just been gutshot, were the tears I saw running down his face before he turned away ... that no sound accompanied them had me hurting for him even more.

His usual shower takes a grand total of six minutes if I'm not in it with him, so when I glanced at the clock on the bedside table and saw that I'd been sitting sheet-wrapped and huddled in the middle of his bed for _twelve_ minutes, I got worried all over again. The sheet and I went to investigate.

"Ranger?" I said to the clear shower door.

Not having a colorful shower curtain to block my body from anyone I didn't invite to look at it, is going to take some getting used to, but like with this house's placement and design, it's clear that no one is allowed to sneak up on him, even in his own home ... which is why I called out to him first.

He didn't answer me. He was too busy trying to loofah his way through every inch of skin on his body. I can already see that he's made himself bleed in a couple spots as he attempted to rid himself of a feeling he can't shake, or clean off something that _was_ on him but _now_ is no longer there. I don't know how a lethal man with such an aggressive body, could look vulnerable ... but maybe he only looks vulnerable _to me_ because I know him. I have a feeling if Tank were here instead of me, he'd be dealing with a very different Ranger. I want to kick my own ass for not being there every time the wind returned him to Trenton. It killed me to think he was going through episodes like these all alone when I could've been there to protect him ... even from himself if necessary.

Well, he isn't alone anymore. If he needs help, I'm the woman who welcomes the job. Ranger wasn't exactly 'gone' this time, and he didn't appear to want to hurt anyone except himself, so I dropped the sheet and got into the shower to stop him from doing that. I briefly wondered why he needed a streamlined shower caddy, and a soap-holder that had a door like the butter compartment in a fridge, but I now understand the extent war changes you. Even when taking a shower, he doesn't feel safe without having a weapon inches from his hand the entire time. I hurt for him and the guys all over again, knowing that they've had to live like this ... always remembering and always on guard.

He knew I was there, but when I tried to pry the loofah-thing out of his hand, he didn't give it up easily and I could see him draw further into himself. He didn't leave or shove me out of shower, though, and I took that to mean he wants me here, but he doesn't know what to ask me for. Not only do I love him and know in my bones that he feels the same way back, I already miss how connected I feel to him when he's in or wrapped around me. This isn't him using my body to feel better ... this is me loving him through a difficult time with it. That's what I'm telling myself anyway so I don't feel guilty for doing something that has already been proven to work.

I pressed my front to his back and I picked up his shower gel as a handy excuse for touching him if I found myself needing one. With him, it seems the fastest way to get his memories to release him is by talking to and touching him... like his mind can't feel good and bad at the same time, one has to overpower the other. Only getting him back a few hours ago, I need plenty of physical contact myself.

I didn't want to risk hurting him further so I used only my hands and started sliding them across the undamaged sections of skin while he stood statue-still working through his own emotions. If I didn't already know my guys feel everything a hundred times more than everyone else, Ranger's return would've shown me how deep their emotions run and how misunderstood men like them really are. To appear unemotional to the untrained eye is how their bodies learned to defend them against being hurt further.

Ranger had been semi-hard when I invited myself into his shower, but he's fully saluting now as I rinsed his body with my cupped hands. When I got to that part of him, I gave up pretending to wash him and concentrated on taking away his pain any way I'm able to, and hopefully in the process ... get his mind off whatever thoughts he was trying to escape, or scrub off, by coming in here.

I can tell he's trying to keep still and not let go again. His control is legendary and as much as I respect that about him, it's hurting more than helping him right now. He may have just come back from a mission, but I'm on one now. I've learned exactly what he responds to the fastest and how to push his desire for me to the limits ... and then past it. I scooted between him and the wall housing the faucets, got on my knees, and took as much of him as I could into my mouth. I sucked as my tongue stroked that spot he likes. I used my fingers to caress, squeeze, and rub, every sensitive area my mouth, lips, and tongue, weren't already busy seducing.

" _Stephanie_..." he said, the strain in his voice reverberating off the walls of the tiled shower.

I shivered from the sound alone. My cheeks hollowed as I applied more suction. Him being able to utter only my name is good, but we aren't there yet. I need a groan and the flashing of his teeth to know he's gone from me, but in the best way possible.

It happened faster than I thought, considering what we'd done only two hours ago, but mouth-to-South brought Batman back from the brink again. I pressed a kiss to the sexiest innie belly button created, then I continued up his body, placing kisses to the center of his chest, collarbones, throat, and the underside of his jaw, before I felt ready to meet his eyes again. I'm a little scared of what I might see. It's possible that he's still trapped someplace I'll never know, or he could believe that I'm taking advantage of this situation and angry that I'm seeing a side of him that he's been a master of hiding from me until now. What he's been through has changed his life forever, but he hasn't let that define who he is.

So when he said ..." _Thank you_ ," with more feeling than I've ever heard someone put into two words, I reached a hand out to the wall to steady myself. I hadn't expected that. It took me a full minute to figure out how to respond, but it felt right as I started to say it out loud.

"I can't jump off a bridge, find you underwater, and pull you safely back to shore, though I _would_ be right there _trying_ to save you if I _ever_ see you in over your head," I told him. "I can't pull a gun on a little old lady and drag her out of bed and to her office in the middle of the night to get the address where you're being held. And I couldn't stop whatever just did this to you, but I swear I will _always_ be here for you and I'll do what I can to help you forget, feel better, and be my Batman again ... at least for a few minutes. It's not much, but I want you to know that I'll never not be here for you, and I'll be waiting for you when or however you come back to me. You aren't going to be left alone with your thoughts or memories anymore, unless you ask me to go away. And even then, you'll have to fight me to get me to leave before that'll happen."

"I've barely had time to grasp that you're mine, Babe, I'd cut my tongue out with my own knife before I'd ever tell you to go away. You've done more for me and my sanity than anybody else has ... living or dead."

"Don't tell Tank that. He's not happy that we're here and he's still Trenton, but he said you needed _me._ He'd do anything to get his friend back, even put his trust and faith in me to make that happen."

He turned off the water as I scanned the bruises, cuts, and burns, marring his just-about flawless skin. He looks exactly how I picture a Warrior should ... and I have no doubt he fought like one. Without the guys coming right out and saying it, the way _I_ can serve my country and support my particular troops, is to bridge the gap between the respected and decorated Army Ranger who left to do a job ... and the zen-like, slightly playful Ranger I'm used to.

I must be doing okay because he's now back in ' _Take Care Of Stephanie-_ mode'. He wrapped me in a towel, and hand-dried my hair a little before I could even attempt to make him comfortable. Being with Ranger is easy, aside from this past month without him ... I'd even say loving him has been completely painless, but I hadn't thought that getting him to let me help take care _of him_ would be a challenge. I was sure I was losing my chance to pay him back for all the times he's come to my rescue, but he surprised me again by taking his shower hardware and me back to bed. He yanked my towel away before gesturing for me to slide in under the blanket I'd thankfully flung back onto the bed after the thunder-confusion. He slid in next to me and pulled me against him.

I didn't know if he wanted us to try to go back to sleep without discussing what just happened, or if he'd prefer to lie quietly and stare at the ceiling just because we can do that together now. But he gradually started to talk to me in the pitch-blackness of the bedroom that was only lit by occasional flashes of lightning.

"You don't know what it's like, Steph ..." he began, but stopped after he said my name.

"I'll _never_ know what it's like to be you, or survive what you've been through, but I've been trying to figure out how I can still be here for you despite that. You don't have to tell me everything, or _anything_ at all if it hurts too much, but if you want ... you can help me understand what you don't think anyone can. I'm willing to try if you are. No matter what you say or don't say, I'm not leaving or leaving you. I doubt you've decided to give up that part of your life even after this job, so I'm hoping we can work together to mush together our two worlds."

His body tensed and I mentally swore at myself for stepping in it again. "Mush together our worlds?" He asked.

"Yeah. We've had very different experiences in life, and I want that to work in our favor ... rather than against us in the future."

" _Babe_."

"Am I wrong?"

"No. You have a unique way of seeing things, but it's never wrong."

"Can I ask you something?"

He hesitated, but then he kissed the top of my head. "Go ahead."

"Was the job you just finished what caused this? Or was it a combination of everything?"

With a touch as light as I could use, I ran my fingers over where I remember seeing bruises and across his scratches and all the partially healed cuts and burns along his torso, arms and legs, that I was afraid were caused by him being too close to something that explodes. While he decided how - or _if_ \- he'll answer me, I tried using a more intimate version of Braille to read his body and attempt to uncover his story before he began to tell it.


	4. Chapter 4

**This chapter is a lengthy mash-up of thoughts, concerns, and appreciation, that I've been having and feeling, especially over this past year. Mrs. Manoso's card I saw online, but changed slightly, same with the picture-demand story. Everyone familiar belongs to Janet. Mistakes are mine alone.**

 **Chapter 4**

 **Ranger POV**

"Men like Gonzoloz and war dogs like L.B. ..." I started to say, but stopped as I pictured the pain in their eyes when I saw them last.

"L.B.?" She asked.

"An abbreviation for _Little Bear_. He's excellent at what he does."

"Of course he is," she said around a smile.

"I was called in to head a rescue mission. We got the men out, but not without injuries to two of my team."

"Shit. This Gonzoloz?"

"Yes. And L.B."

"Oh, no ... not the puppy!"

"Steph, he is so good at his job, he has multiple bounties on his head. He's not a 'puppy'. He's as much of a Soldier as I am."

"They want to kill a dog? That's disgusting."

"War usually is."

"I know. That's why I wanted to beg you not to go, while knowing exactly why you would and should."

"I couldn't _not_ go. If there's a chance to save a life ..."

"You'll take it, I know. I also know you take every safety precaution available to you. If there was any way to keep your guys from getting hurt, you would have. You aren't to blame. If anyone should be shouldering the responsibility for what happened, it's the so-called 'leaders' or extremists making money and a name for themselves by hurting their own people ... and ours, or the assholes who were holding captive who you went there to save. We should all be losing sleep over what men like you and Gonzoloz have to go through, not just go on with life while this is happening to yours ... pretending that your problems aren't our collective one."

"It's not something anyone wants or has to think about unless they have someone they love in harm's way."

"That's no excuse."

I wanted to grin at her unwavering support of me, and of the men and women who go through what I do. "It's alright, Babe."

"No, it's not. Mary Lou thinks it's ' _soooo sweet_ ' the lengths you go trying to protect me, but as I was thinking about it one morning, everyone who enlists are essentially doing the same thing ... except for _total strangers_ along with the people they love. And you all don't get much from us in return ... not even respect or a thank you in some cases like Morelli's or my mom's. My parents were the first ones in the Burg to sport yellow ribbons during the Iraq war, but they still treat you and the guys like crap even when _you're_ basically who they claimed they were 'praying for'."

"We don't do what we do for the medals or the thank yous, Steph, so we don't put much thought into them not being given or acknowledged, especially when the 'appreciation' is spoken with no genuine feeling behind it."

"Well, _I_ have enough feeling behind _my_ words to take care of at least half the county."

I kissed the top of her head. "I sensed that."

"On one of the rare times my Grandpa Harry was home while I'd been hiding out at his and Grandma's house, he felt like talking a little about his WWII days. He patiently explained to a kid who still thought 'heroes' were only members of the Justice League, not fully understanding that the term applied to everyday guys like him. Anyway, he told me how people ' _back_ in _The States'_ had planted Victory Gardens in their backyards and in any available open space to boost morale and add to the country's food supply. Women - who were basically second-class citizens then - stepped in to take over jobs to keep the country and troops going. And how everybody rallied around the men while they were gone, and celebrated them even more after they came back. Even at my age, I could tell he was proud of how the country he was fighting to protect, came together and agreed with ration specific things, happy to have a way to support war efforts ... and to show their support for them _period_."

"It was a different time back then."

"It was. _Now_ no one seems to give a shit about anyone or anything, let alone wars happening on a separate continent or the people sent and left fighting them. I know things weren't perfect for everyone back then, but when faced with a bigger threat ... everybody pitched in and went without for the good of the country. And now I'm seeing that it was also for them to feel like they were helping, even being so far away from the actual danger. I know I wanted to do _something_ while you were gone, but was at a loss how I could help you since I'm not one of the four percent of our population who's active military now that it's all _volunteer_ -based. And let me tell you ... the guys definitely seem to prefer that, despite some of the load being taken off you all if the draft was reinstated ..."

"You have more confidence in the people around you when you know they _chose_ to be there and believe in the fight."

"I get that now, just going on one apprehension with Bobby instead of Lula. She wanted lunch so I ended up being abandoned and in need of a ride home. Bobby picked me up and proceeded to knock my FTA out minutes later. I've stuck with one of your guys ever since. I've had a lot of time to think, and I started to see not only how ineffective Lula is as a partner, but actually how dangerous having her as 'backup' really is."

"That's why I told my men before I left to assist you any way you'd let them."

"They've been great, but they aren't _you_. Now before I cry with how much I've missed you and how relieved I am that you're home, I'm going to get back to explaining why what you do is so impressive to a Burg girl like me. When a war or 'situation' breaks out these days, we don't have to give up squat, or be forced to think about anything not happening right in front of us, while you're shipped likely a world away and have to give up every comfort you're used to. So if I go by Grampa Harry's time to what ours is now, instead of rationing food, gas, and clothing, while guys like you are away, maybe now _our_ part comes in when you all come home. Starting with understanding that you're going to be different and respect that and your boundaries, instead putting PTSD labels or mental 'Beware' signs on you. I get why you'd have readjustment issues as you're relearning what life outside of a war zone feels like. I mean ... how can you not come home changed? I was jumpy and had nightmares _for weeks_ after shooting Cone, and that was only _one_ person trying to kill me."

"I'm guessing when you weren't in Newark with my parents, you spent a considerable amount of time at Rangeman keeping the men company."

"More like the other way around. They should be nominated for Sainthood for putting up with me this past month as I moved more and more into your building. I was a total wreck, but I've learned a lot about what you guys have/had to go through, even after you're supposedly done getting shot at. Lester's issue is how much money the government spends to send you guys into battle, but the budget and benefits feel like they go 'poof' when it comes to taking care of you all once you're home. Since you're his friend, you already know this, but Lester told me his Uncle Ruiz fought in Vietnam, and Les is still pissed about how Vietnam Vets were - and are still being - treated ... like no one gives a crap, shit, or fuck, about how Vets suffer now, what they endured when they served, or what they've had to go through in the years in-between ... active duty guys, either, even though you're repeatedly being put in danger. I condensed it for him by acknowledging that you all are, and what you do is, taken for granted by us."

"I wouldn't include _you_ in the majority, but he isn't exaggerating when it comes to watching your family or buddies being disrespected."

"What I felt pissed him off the most, was that everyone, members of his own family included, fixated on how different his Uncle was and behaved when he was able to come home, forgetting what a tough 'motherfucker' - _Lester's_ endearment, not mine - he was to be a typical high school senior one minute, and in the blink of an eye he was a Marine seeing and fighting in actual Combat. That takes a whole other kind of mental toughness and physical strength to find yourself going from a school hallway, to boot camp, straight into a war zone ... _and_ survive it. I can't even stay sane sitting in Sunday afternoon traffic, so I get what he means. None of you get the credit you deserve. Even Memorial Day and Veterans Day are viewed as just major shopping days and an excuse to blow a wad of cash on a new car or clothes. Your mom's disapproval on that one was _extremely_ clear. She told me it's the family and friends of servicemen and women who are responsible for making sure you're appreciated and never forgotten, since you won't say how great, skilled, strong, and brave, you are yourself."

I tensed, but she just ran her fingertips across my skin to relax me as she kept speaking, ignoring my need to deflect her praise. To her, I can't be thanked, loved, or appreciated, enough ... and she's happy to take on the job if no one else is as qualified to handle it.

"Doctors go to school for years to prepare for life and death decisions, can schedule when to attempt to save a life, and they have a network of experts to consult in seconds if they're not sure what to do. You guys have a split second to decide whether someone's trying to kill you or your buddies, and it's a person-to-person thing. You don't just land and get handed a good guy/bad guy sheet. Lester said one man can be offering you tea as a thank you, and another could be trying to poison you with it."

"Santos doesn't share his experiences or family history with just anyone."

"I think it was purely a self-defense move. Your mom had just come over to bring me a picture of you and Julie that I'd mentioned I wish I had a copy of, and I was a bit 'emotional' when she left. He was trying to turn my 'I love you and Julie so much' tears into productive anger. Lester became a different guy when he was talking about what his Uncle and their family had to go through to get help for him. I believe his exact words were " _WE are the country's defense against enemies, so taking care of us - during and after - our service, should be factored into defense spending for fuck's sake. And they shouldn't fuck Vets over via the VA, hoping they die or kill themselves before help is provided._ "

"He's been told to watch his mouth around you," I said, though I agreed with him.

Having lost his only brother to what turned into a lifelong health battle caused by Agent Orange use in Vietnam ... my father hadn't been quiet at the dinner table or at holiday gatherings when it came to how Veterans have as many battles to fight long after they return from war. Leaving my people to the VA's mercy ceased being an option once I was in a position to take care of them myself or through the connections I've made over the years.

"But he's _fucking_ right," she said, placing a kiss to my chest. "I was actually worried for a second that if any of your team were hurt, they'd have to fight for the help they need, but then I remembered that you'd bankrupt yourself ten times over, and fight night and day for what they'd require, before you'd let anyone suffer."

"They're being treated by the best."

I made sure of it.

"See, I don't have the power, money, or contacts, to do that, so I have to help out in other ways ... like being a one woman support system ... listening whenever you or the guys feel like talking so you can put everything in your head somewhere else for a few minutes. I know how _I_ feel when you just hug me and let me bitch about whatever ticked me off that day, so maybe just being there does the same for you. Though I'd like to think talking to me gives you a momentary break from shouldering the load all alone for doing what not many people can or would. I know you. You carry every hurt done to someone as if you're the one who caused it in the first place, but you did your job. You rescued those guys, prevented their deaths, and they'll get to go home to their families. Please ... don't beat yourself up anymore. I know you won't stop torturing yourself with 'I should'ves' and 'If onlys' because you're the kind of man who takes his responsibilities and duty seriously, but you've already done far more than anyone else could."

"If I would have been a millisecond faster ... Gonzoloz and L.B. would still have the bodies they left home with."

"Oh, God. Are they okay? I mean, I know they _aren't_ okay ..."

"I know what you mean. They're alive and will survive. The hardest fight is deciding if they want to. I would've been here sooner, but I wanted to check on them myself. If I didn't know you were waiting for me, I would have stayed with Sosa and McCurry, two more of my men, and personally oversee their care until they're set to fly home, but I needed you and didn't want you worrying longer than you had to."

"I guess I can't complain about missing you for a few extra days, since you had the best reason to hang back. You're a good guy."

"I'm supposed to be the best."

"You're that, too."

"If I was, I would've reached out faster, and located the men sooner so they would've been spared a few days of additional abuse. And then _everyone_ would be in a hell of a lot less pain right now. They may all be alive, but I still have their blood on my hands."

"Nice try, but what I see is that you saved multiple lives. You rescued at least two POWs, since you said 'got _them_ out', you kept two of your own guys from being killed, and your entire team was alive and together when you left them to come home to me. That means that ... _four_ people are alive right now because of you and your men. Not bad for a day's work. I like cats and respect firefighters, but even I can see how wrong it is that one firefighter gets a kitten down from a tree and he's on every news station for seven days straight. You save a handful of people, and not only aren't you being celebrated nationwide, you're left having flashbacks, nightmares, and are telling yourself you should've been better, faster, or psychic so you could've known ahead of time what was about to happen and prevent it."

"Steph ..."

"You're not God, Ranger. You're not solely responsible for everybody's life or death. You may have saved some and killed others, but everyone with you made a choice to be there in one way or another. No one would've been called in if those guys hadn't been kept prisoner. If the assholes who did the taking hadn't snatched them, they wouldn't have had to face you. If your team didn't believe they were needed, they wouldn't have been there, either. You took on a job I'm betting no one else could've gotten done, and you succeeded. I know you don't see this the same way I do, but to me ... you're a hero who did whatever you had to in order to save someone else. If I shot Morelli instead of just breaking his leg with the Buick, you'd say _proud of you, Babe_. So I'm saying it to you ... I'm _so_ friggin' proud of you, Ranger."

I won't cry in front of her again, but her acceptance of me made me want to. "I don't deserve you, Steph."

"No, you deserve _so much more_ , but you're stuck with just me. So Gonzoloz and L.B. are the reason you were pulling me off the bed and checking my leg?"

I went silent for a minute. Coming home this time was worse than the last, and not only because she was an eyewitness to it. I should've waited until it was safe to see her, but she always has me saying 'fuck you' to my standard operating procedures.

"I don't remember doing that," I finally answered. "Did I hurt you?"

"Nope. I was just thoroughly checked out and released. I heard thunder right after, that I suppose could sound like an explosion, which I'm guessing is how Gonzoloz and Little Bear were hurt."

"IED," I said, feeling her tense.

She understands just how easily it could've been me hospitalized right now.

It was easy to tell that particular thought upset her, but she tried not to dwell on it. "I was asleep, but I don't know if you managed to."

"I can almost always sleep if you're in bed with me."

She looked up at me. " _Really?_ Usually I make people either _too mad_ or _too worried_ to sleep."

"There were nights like that, too."

"So Gonzoloz and L.B. are getting taken care of. What about the people you and your men rescue? Shit, I probably shouldn't have asked. It's okay if you don't want to say more."

I saw their battered faces, beaten bodies, and wounded minds, in my own ... and I hope like hell they're faring better than I am right now. Maybe I'm getting too old to do this shit ... or it could be that I now have something worth losing. I signed myself up and didn't think twice about sacrificing myself for my country or for the men I serve with, but hurting Stephanie isn't something I can purposely do. I need more time to work through this, and Steph needs a distraction so she can stop worrying about me.

"Where are you going?" She asked, as I got out of bed.

"I want to give you something that I had with me in-country."

I went to my discarded pants, feeling like the removal of them happened a lifetime ago, rather than just a few hours. The pain in my body suddenly felt magnified by a thousand. I ignored the discomfort and got back under the covers with her, praying this goes better than anything else has so far.

"I bought this a few days before I left and I purposely took it with me. It stayed in my vest when I was wearing it, and inside a pocket of my cammies when I wasn't. It was on my body the entire job. I used it to keep me extra vigilant and as added incentive to get home safely. If I kept my men alive, completed my mission, and remained uninjured ... I would then deserve the right to give it to you."

I opened my hand and she looked at the simple oval diamond that had a ring of small diamonds surrounding the large one sitting at attention on a thin diamond-lined band. The ring is unapologetically beautiful, just like the woman I spent weeks imagining wearing it. My plan worked too well, she stopped worrying about my responses to sudden noises and movements. She didn't touch the ring, she shoved me gently instead.

" _Hey!_ You were supposed to keep my 'Heart Tag' in your vest. You _promised_."

"There was room, because I kept _your_ tag on the chain with the ones containing my other vital info," I said, leaning over the side of the bed again.

I snagged my pants and pulled out the separate set of tags I'd made it home with. There's a reason I took them off before heading to her apartment. I didn't want her to see them, but she needs to know her gift was kept close. It's against the rules, but they've stopped applying to me.

"You've said you won't jinx a mission by wearing brand new tags for them, so please tell me this dent is a really, really, _really old_ one," she said, running her thumb over the imperfection.

"You don't want an honest answer to that."

"On a scale of 1-10 ... _how much_ do I not want to know the details?"

"You'd need a separate scale."

She shouldn't have to picture how a bullet from one of the guards put on our men, ricocheted, and hit a little too close to home as I was eliminating him. If it weren't for my body armor and those tags, she'd be crying in my mother's arms right now instead of just looking like she wants to. I did what I could to pound the metal back out, but the damage done to it is still easily seen.

"Shit, shit, shit, damn ... _fuck!_ " She tightened the hand holding the three of them, and tried to take a 'Don't Panic' breath. "Sorry. I needed to get that out of my system. I know you are the most qualified Ranger there is, and your team wouldn't be yours if you didn't trust them, but I can't help thinking that these were on your chest. That's where most of the _keep-you-alive_ organs are located. I specifically begged God and whoever else was listening to make sure NO bullets got near those and you'd handle the rest."

"It's possible that your words were heard, since I _am_ alright."

"Yeah, because you had armor on. I'm not giving _anyone_ except _you,_ and the company that makes it, credit for that. Maybe in a year or three, I'll be able to make you laugh with a joke about this, but I'm fresh out of them at the moment."

"I wouldn't count on that. Whenever I close my eyes, I can still see you going over the side of that bridge and folded up inside the cabinet at Spiro's house. But we're not going to focus on that. I found you every time I lost you, and I'm here with you now. My men may have a long road to recovery ahead of them, but you're right ... we all made it out. Mike's daughter will have her daddy there when she's born."

"Gonzoloz's first name?"

"Yes."

"Thank you for saying he'll be okay before telling me he's going to be a daddy. I may never have thought of kids as an option until recently, but for those who are counting on having them, it'd be cruel for the Gonzoloz family to lose Mike before his daughter gets to meet her Daddy. I had trouble wording my 'Be safe. Come home soon' prayers, because I wanted you back with me safe and sound, but I didn't want anyone who was with you to get hurt, either."

"It was my job to make sure no one did."

"And you did it ..."

"I could've done a better one."

"You saved a professional-sniffing Soldier, Mike, and rescued two men being kept prisoner, what more could you have done? Wait ... before you say anything, let me ask it this way, what would have happened to Gonzoloz and Little Bear if you hadn't pulled him/them to safety, like you 'saved me' tonight?"

I was quiet. Mike would've lost more than his left foot. And L.B. would be gone, not just his leg. But if I share that, she'll give me credit I don't deserve.

"I can't order you to not hurt over not being God, but please try remember that you brought people home who may not have had a chance to see the people they love again. If you hadn't rescued me from the Delaware and found me before Con killed me, I wouldn't be here loving you. What's going through your mind hearing that is what the families of who you saved are feeling right now. Those guys may be injured and require extra help for a while, or forever, but you gave them a chance to live again."

The truth in her words had me feeling uncomfortable. If she had died ... but she wouldn't let my mind stay stuck there, either.

"You did all that anyone could," she stated.

" _I'm_ not just anyone."

"You're not, but just about every superhero or mythical figure I've heard of, has a 'something' that can hurt them. I think yours is your superhuman need to protect everyone, which I'm guessing is what triggered today, first with Morelli and now with the storm. You couldn't prevent _their_ suffering, so you suffer _for_ them."

"There's that ... and more."

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" She offered.

"No."

"Do you _need_ to?"

I went silent again. It probably _would_ be better to talk it through beginning to end, but I already have to relive it day and night, _she_ shouldn't have to do the same.

"I don't care what it is," she told me, "or what you had to do. _You_ and what you need is what's important to me. I couldn't be over there with you, but I want to be here for you now."

"You're mistaken, Stephanie. You were right there beside me when I needed you." I held the ring out to her. "Would you be willing to promise to be there every single time I come back, even if it means more nightmares, flashbacks, that _I_ could be the man injured next time ...?"

"Yes. I missed you before you even left the building, but I know you excel at what you do ... so while you were off saving people, I tried to keep busy by fixing me. I also got to know your family and the guys even better and became far more adept at telling people off. I like the idea of a Ranger-relocation program so I can keep you selfishly all to myself, but I understand the need you have to make the world a better/safer place. I want you even more because of it."

I picked up her left hand, but she immediately froze, which caused me to tense in response. She cursed herself out loud, worried that she was upsetting me. She couldn't talk fast enough to correct that.

"It's not what you think," she began.

"You sure?" I asked her. "Maybe you finally realize what you're in for if you do agree to marry me."

"I see _exactly_ what I'd get being your wife," she was extremely quick to say, "and lucky girl that I am ... I'm looking forward to every second of it and you ... _before_ and _after_ we're married."

"So why did you freeze?"

"I want your ring, but ..."

"But, _what,_ Steph? _Explain_."

"Don't make fun of me for this, but I haven't taken my heart ring off since I put it on the morning you left. At the risk of sounding nuts, even though you're home now, I'm worried that moving it at all will somehow jinx something. I came up with all kinds of rituals and superstitions while you were gone."

My mother said something similar to me the first time I returned home safely. "I can just move it to your right hand," I suggested.

"That'll work. And since _you're_ the one doing it, maybe it uncrosses something."

"Babe."

But I did honor her request. She held out first her left hand so I could de-heart her ring finger and give mine to her all over again.

"Leave it to you ..." she was saying.

"Leave it to me ... _what_?" I asked.

"To find a diamond that can still reflect light in the dark."

I kissed the knuckles in front of and behind my ring. "Only the best for my Babe."

She wiggled the fingers of her right hand to get my attention. "Don't forget, the heart goes back on. I'm not taking _any_ chances with you."

This time I did smile as I gave her good luck charm a new home.

"I saw that. Don't laugh at me. You may think I'm crazy, but on the bright side, I punch way better with my right hand, so having my cutout ring on it will make it easier to leave a deep, heart-shaped dent in Morelli's face ... which is what I would've done if you hadn't tied him up nice and neat for a PD delivery. I'd threatened to shoot him, and I'll admit to only you that I was dangerously close to doing it. He can say whatever he wants to about me, but you and the guys are off limits."

"I'm sorry I scared you."

"You did, but not for the reasons you think. I can handle a flamethrower-using psychopath, a stalking ex, and you being gone with no definite _return-to-me_ date, but the thought of you being in pain right beside me and not being able to stop it ..."

"Reactions this severe don't happen as often anymore. You wouldn't have been exposed to it this time if I would've been smart instead of desperate to see you. I should've done what I usually do and stayed here for a few days after I left Mike's bedside before tracking you down, but ..."

"Don't _ever_ apologize for needing me. I've been trying to explain why - and how much - I love you ... _all_ of you. And as much as I hate that you had/have to go through this ... you coming straight to me, and me being here for you when you did, proves that I meant what I said about promising to be. And just for the record, I wouldn't have done what I did in here and in the shower for _anyone_ except _you_. I needed you as much as you did me."

There aren't words to express what her belief in me means, so I just tightened my arms around her and buried my face in her still damp curls, remembering how thoroughly she loved and loves me.

My going silent had her doing the opposite. She was back to being upset, but _for_ me ... not _because of_ me. " _This_ shouldn't happen at all. It should be a karma rule, if you're lucky enough to survive Hell once, you should _never_ have to live through it again ... not still have to go through multiple layers of it once you're home. If you don't mind, when he's up to it ... I'd like to call Mike and his wife and let them know there's one more person sending them and their family some positive thoughts and a baby gift or two. I'd give Rex a fur-brother and offer to adopt Little Bear, but I'm sure he's already spoken for."

"He is. Mike doesn't know it yet, but I've already arranged for L.B. to remain with him when they're both back to being able to take care of each other."

"There's that 'good guy-thing' again." She flung her left arm across my stomach and looked at her engaged hand. "Can I ask you something?"

I tensed. There's still so much I need to tell her, about this past mission and what future ones would mean for us, but not right now. My reactions are still too unpredictable, but I didn't want to hurt her or make her feel like I'm shutting her out, so I answered anyway.

"Go ahead," I told her.

"What else do you keep in your vest when you're wearing one, besides first aid stuff and extra ammo?"

I just looked at her.

" _What?_ " She asked, when I didn't say anything.

"I wasn't expecting that question."

"I really want to know whatever you feel okay telling me, but I'm not going to push you if it'll make things worse. Plus, I'm nosy and want to know what you think is important - and what keeps you going - out there."

" _Out there?_ " I asked, feeling a hint of the usual amusement she brings to my life.

"I didn't know where you were, so it's what I said in-between you being 'in the wind', 'on a job', or 'working', when someone from the Burg asked me where you were. So the meaningful stuff in your vest ...?"

"You should know that since I met you, _you_ are what's kept me going ... here and there."

"That's why you bought me a ring when I already had one?"

"Yes. Your heart ring, I appreciate, but mine is what you deserve. A formed piece of metal in the shape of a bullet filled with powder can keep me alive, but a different metal attached to a diamond can make me happy to be."

"I know what and who you are. _Ranger_ is more than just a nickname. And you're more to me than just my friend, partner, and now my now husband-to-be."

"I understand that."

"I don't think you do. I used to think about me too often ... how am I going to pay my rent? Why do I keep going to Tasty Pastry when there's plenty of bakeries far from the Burg? Why don't I just take a cab instead of trying to keep a car alive? But these past few weeks ... all I could think about was you."

"I'm sorry," I told her.

"There's no reason to be. It's a really good change."

"How so?" I asked, surprised by more than just that comment.

"I had always been terrified to love you. I didn't trust myself or anyone else enough to ever consider marriage again. Basically, I was scared of committing to _anything_ in my life. But by focusing my time on making myself the kind of person you'd be proud to claim, helped me become her. You made me better even when you weren't nearby, and I realized that I can do anything if I have you in my life. So this ring is more than just a promise to me for you."

"I love you, Babe."

"I fully get that now. You loved me long before I figured out how to love myself ... and love you the way you deserve in return. Now ... answer the question. You wore my dog tag with yours, kept my future ring on you, what else was in your vest ... a cross, a non-melty candy bar, the Batman figure I bought you? You know I would've sent you some good stuff if I knew where they were hiding you."

I was worried my sense of humor would be MIA for months to come, but although my laugh was low and rusty sounding ... it was still there. She's given me more than just the will to live, she continues to give me aspects of my life back that I thought I'd lost.

"You would've tried to mail _yourself_ had you been given an address or even a country," I told her.

"You know me well. _Sooo_...?"

"Aside from pictures of you, Julie, and my family, and the rosary beads Grandma Rosa insists I leave with, there's a card my mother gave me right before my first deployment. I took a pair of scissors to it so I could take her words with me. All these years later, I still keep it on me."

"What does it say? Knowing your Mom, it involved a direct order to come back to her or she'll do something about it. My mother would've gone the opposite route and given me something that said ... ' _What did you go and get yourself into now?'_ or maybe ... ' _This is what you get when you don't listen to me_.' _"_

"As far as I'm concerned, the only thing your mother has done right, is have you ... just so I can have you now. Nothing else about her matters, least of all her opinions."

I let her go momentarily and reached for my cargoes again. I fished out my wallet and passed the card to her so she could read it.

"' _I am not your friend, I am your parent,'"_ I listened to her say out loud. "' _I will stalk you, flip out on you, lecture you, drive you insane, be your worst nightmare, and hunt you down when needed, because there's no one I love more than my children'._ " She wiped her eyes in a way she hoped I wouldn't see. "I really love that woman. Your Mama's scary, but in a very loving way."

"She likes you, too."

"She seems to. I lucked out there, too. Mary Lou and Val filled my head with a few of the mother-in-law horror stories they endured before proving that they were worthy of being a Kloughn or Stankovic wife."

"In my parents' eyes, there was nothing you had to prove. You kept me in Jersey and gave me something to talk to them about that wouldn't upset or worry them. They'd love you for that alone, but you continue to give them reasons to like you."

" _I'm_ supposed to be making _you_ feel better," she said, "not the other way around."

I tugged her closer to me. "Helping you helps me."

"I'm seeing how that works now. I feel loads better now that you're back to normal."

This is the one thing I've always been afraid of, first with Julie and then meeting Stephanie. "I'll never be ' _normal_ ', Steph."

"I already knew that one. Lula and I figured out a long time ago that you're actually a superhero. Why do you think I always call you Batman? He's not a _normal_ guy, either, but he's pretty fucking awesome."

"Could be you call me that because you have an unusual sense of humor," I said, just to hear her reply.

She kissed my shoulder. "That is true, but I knew from the get-go that you surpassed 'normal' and entered the superhuman realm. _You_ wouldn't be _you_ if you didn't fight fiercely for what's right or hurt deeply for those you care about. What you did _there_ or how you act _here_ , doesn't change how much I love you or how in awe of you I still am. How could it?" She asked. "I know you said the wind had you rescuing people, not stopping an apocalypse, but my thinking remains unchanged from last week when I was staring my coffee cold again. As much as we miss you, guys like you have to be gone sometimes because what was being discussed far away from us, led to two Towers falling down here. That matured me _real_ fast. It's not only me who needs you, but the entire world needs people like you, so I have to share."

"Seeing something happening in your own backyard makes it harder to ignore. You can pretend a threat doesn't exist until you hear the alarms and smell the smoke through your own windows."

"See ... that's what I'm trying to say. Knowing when you enlist, or agree to do a specific mission in your case, you'll likely be facing situations as horrific as that _everyday_ takes a major pair ... of super-strengths. And every one of you should have someone supportive like me to come home to."

"I wish there was someone like you for every one of my men, but _you_ aren't our reality. You'd be surprised how many men learn their women only got with them for the money."

I could feel her confusion. Her nipples raked my chest as she moved so she could speak face-to-face with me even though the room is still dark.

"What do you mean?" She asked. "What money?"

"If they can get their names on the paperwork ... spouses, parents, siblings, can collect death benefits. Some women purposely target the men who will likely to be put in the most danger, in hopes the men die in Combat, leading the 'family' to a pretty good payout."

"Please tell me you're kidding? Wait ... don't. That's too sick to joke about."

"I wouldn't joke about how I've seen my men suffer ... and not at the hands of our enemies, but due to the supposed 'loved ones' back home. One man I know signed his enlistment papers as soon as he graduated high school. He came home proud and excited to tell his family that his dream was coming true of serving in the military just as his deceased father had done. And instead of hearing congratulations or concerns for his safety, he discovered them huddled together around a monitor, systematically planning how they'll spend the money they'll get when he's KIA. Killed In Action," I explained.

Her mouth dropped open, which made my feelings for her grow exponentially. That she couldn't even comprehend doing that to someone made me love and trust her even more.

"Don't worry," I told her, " _someone_ suggested putting a charity as the receiver, and reminded him that the best way to say 'fuck you' to them is to survive every battle and have a good life without them afterwards."

"I hope he's still sticking it to them, by living a happy life far away from them."

I couldn't speak for a minute. "That's a story for another time."

"I know what that means. _Damn it!_ There's no end to the suffering for you, is there?"

"Doesn't feel like it most days."

"You owe me a night of nothing but happy or practical joke stories after this one. And I thought I had it bad with Dickie, and my mom wanting me to be married and miserable with a guy just as bad."

"' _Dickie_ ' deserves to have _his_ removed."

"It should've fallen off immediately after polishing _my_ table with Joyce of all skanks."

"There's still hope he'll contract a dick-eating bacteria from her. A buddy of mine, a Marine not a Ranger, got married right after boot camp and his bitch of a wife started cheating on him the second he was on a plane out. She continued to screw everything in sight until he came back. And even when he found out and divorced her ass, _she's_ still trying to collect money for what _he_ endured. She never _once_ supported him, but now expects him and the Marine Corps to support her. I've offered him a solution or two to that problem, but he's a better man than I am."

Anger had her cheek feeling ten degrees hotter where she had just rested it on my chest. "I hope she was told to go fuck herself."

I smoothed out the frown line that I know would be pulling at the corner of her mouth. "Something along those lines was mentioned in response to another of her 'requests'."

"Good. How the hell could she even think about sex when he could've been hurt or getting shot at? I managed to keep breathing in and out correctly when you were gone, but getting naked with someone other than _you_ to celebrate you being home, _never_ would have crossed my mind." She physically shuddered at the thought. "I was feeling _homicidal_ , not _horny_."

"If we're extremely lucky, we find women like you. But a lot of the time, while we're gone, divorces are being requested, engagements are called off via email or letter, or they hear that their women have moved on without them. Those are the 'thank yous' and 'welcome homes' we get. Some spouses will hang around for what they'll receive as a military widow, or what they can squeeze out for themselves during divorce proceedings once their spouse returns home."

"And _you're_ worried about not being ' _normal_ '?" She said. "If ripping the guts out of someone you claim to love is _normal_ , I'd purposely choose to have non-stop flashbacks, nightmares, and lapses in time, every day of the week and be called 'abnormal. At least that shows you _have_ an actual heart, that you hurt over things done to others, and have emotions that run so deep ... even your subconscious doesn't get a break from them. Unlike those douchebags. Dumping someone while they're trying to keep themselves, and everyone else, alive should be labeled _manslaughter_ in every court in the country."

This time, the distraction was for my benefit. I can hear the screams clearly, like the men were in the room with us, and the smell of death suddenly blocked out the sweet scent of the woman plastered to me. So I talked about anything other than that.

"I'm almost afraid to share this one," I said, knowing she'll be able to keep my mind on her and off things I did and some things I didn't do fast enough.

"Spill. Not telling me a hinted-at story didn't work for the guys. And it definitely won't work for you. I haven't heard your voice in _weeks,_ so I need to suck up as much of it as I can get while you feel like sharing."

"Alright, but I'll say 'calm down' ahead of time. A boot camp buddy of mine after returning from a particularly brutal fight, still covered in mud and blood, wanted to hear from his girl badly enough to forgo a shower until he checked to see if she'd sent him a letter or an email while he'd been away. She did. An email stating that she'd already slept with two people since he left and is planning on moving in with one of them ..."

"Okay, your warning makes sense now. I'm back to feeling homicidal."

"You know exactly what was going through our minds then."

"So what did you guys do about it? I know you're against hurting women, children, and cute members of the animal kingdom, so you couldn't do what I would've had I known where to find her."

"Wonder Woman until the end," I said, approval clear in my voice. "Not only did she break his heart through a screen instead of in person, she demanded he send back the picture he had taken with him of her."

" _Freakin' b_ _itch_ ," Steph whisper/hissed. "What would he use for target practice if he didn't have her picture to aim at?"

"Our entire unit helped him with an alternative revenge. They donated every available photo they had of girlfriends, wives, or sisters. We had him write her back, saying he didn't remember which woman she was. And _he_ 'ordered' her to take her photo out of the lineup and promptly send the rest back."

"I shouldn't find that funny, but she deserved to feel like crap. Did you know me at the time this happened?"

"Yes."

"Did a picture of me get added to the pool?"

"No. I wasn't giving you up, but Celia purposely sent one of herself to show her support."

"Well, if I was in your friend's place, I would've definitely sent one of you, since there's no topping you. You're hot as hell ... and smart and scary as hell, too. More importantly, you're also a genuinely good guy. When Lester told me that his Uncle was actually homeless for awhile, Tank spilled the beans that you own property across the country just so homeless Vets can have a place to live where their specific needs are understood."

"When Tank decides to talk ... it's too much."

"Not in this case. I swear my ears grew with wanting to hear as much as I could about you. Keep that in mind, when you leave, they talk and tell me all the things you won't take credit for."

"No one should have to continue to fight after they're home. I just do what I can to lessen the extent of their struggles. That's all."

"It's not all. You don't get how special offering them places to live and jobs in your organization, makes you. That's what I told Morelli ... that you're the type of person who started a company just so you could take care of your own if no one else will, and you'd never step on others just to make yourself appear bigger. A penis doesn't make you 'a man' in my book, wanting to protect and care for others does."

"It's important to take certain precautions, keeping the noise and triggers down and security up, while not making anyone feel like there's something wrong with them. And who better to offer them an apartment, a job, or help when they need it, than someone who is equally as damaged?"

"I just got you back, Ranger, don't make me smack you. There is _nothing_ damaged about you. You may see things differently and respond to them more, but if you stop and really think about it ... it's actually a good thing. You're always alert so that helps with protecting and saving people for a living, which is the foundation of Rangeman. How you suffer when you have a flashback is horrible, and I wish you never have to have another one, but at least you know that who you lost will _never_ be forgotten, they'll always be a part of you. And what you've gone through and have experienced, has made you dedicate your life to helping others who are going through the same things. What 'normal' person would know exactly why what you're offering means life or death to a certain percentage of our population? Bobby said there's a Rangeman version of a nationwide helpline where _anyone_ 'in trouble' can call your control rooms and get an immediate pick-up and medical care, along with a place to stay while they receive it."

"A lot of men, and now women, come home and find civilian life harder to survive than actual Combat." I felt her eyes shift to look up at me, so I explained. "Picture what just happened to me ..."

"I prefer not to. I joked about you always being in control, but until you came back ... I didn't realize just how much I depend on you always being Mr. Calm, Cool, and Flirty, until you weren't able to be."

"So you see the problem we all face. What would've happened if I attacked someone in the middle of Giovichinni's for accidentally bumping into you, instead of Morelli in your lot?"

"I'd call Eddie or Juniak and explain the situation."

"Not everyone has that option, Steph. I'm trained to immediately take out a threat. It's my responsibility to control myself so I don't hurt anyone needlessly, but being triggered can make that next to impossible."

"That's what I was saying about us needing to know more about what you go through. Joe deserved being bound and I really should've gagged him. You could've put a bullet in him, but you didn't. He saw a chance to hurt you and he went for it. If anyone's to blame for what happened ... it's him. Or me for not immediately getting back in my car when I spotted him, instead of confronting him hoping to get him to go away for good this time."

"You have every right to go to your own apartment without being stalked and harassed. But what if I'd been driving home alone and thunder cracked suddenly above me? Or worse, if I'd been in the middle of an apprehension and a sound or smell made me reach for Mike again? All it takes is one second to find yourself dead. I couldn't stop what I was doing ..."

"You did, though, or Morelli would be in the morgue right now. Shit, remind me to call Tank to check on that one."

"It's not something to take lightly, Steph."

"I'm not. I get what you're saying. You think of yourself as a ticking time bomb, a danger to the public, but I only see a man who has survived a massive ordeal and needs plenty of peace, quiet, and personal space, to bring yourself back from it. Should I be apologizing for invading your space pretty thoroughly?"

"No."

"I was hoping you'd say that. I understand this a whole hell of a lot better than I did even a day ago."

"Consider yourself lucky that all you saw was me tying the asshole up. One of my men made it back home, but was left suffering from severe PTSD, among other issues that Combat and a recovery mission exasperated. He ended up killing himself in a ' _One, Two, Fuck You_ ' move minutes after purposely seeking, and then being turned away from, help. Another danger of being 'home', having an untrained 'professional' fumble her way through a crisis she had no real experience or business dealing with, paired with an unknowing/unthinking civilian, which made a volatile situation turn deadly. Words can kill just as effectively as any bullet."

" _Jesus Christ!_ That's horrible."

"But true."

"Not in _our_ case. I'm warning you now, if you leave again I may try handcuffing myself to you or hiding in your pack so I can be right there to make sure you're okay."

"I'm afraid you wouldn't be cleared to travel where they send me, Babe."

"All the more reason I should tag along."

"I love you."

"You won't when you realize how much this separation changed me as well," she tried to warn me.

"If you can accept me the way I am, there's nothing you can do to make me let you go."

"I not only accept, respect, and love, who you are ... I'm happy to take you anyway I get you. And I want to marry you and spend the rest of my life learning everything I can about you, and what you've done that I still don't know about yet."

She sounded so adamant, my arms immediately came around her. "Like me at nineteen, you don't know exactly what you're signing yourself up for, but I'm grateful that you want to."


	5. Chapter 5

**G** **iven current events, I think this story is more important than ever to remind us not to lose sight or forget about the Heroes who live the reality** _ **behind**_ **the headlines - or lack of headlines in most cases - and what they've gone or continue to go through.** _ **No one**_ **should** _ **ever**_ **use a fallen Soldier, the threat of war, a horrific shooting, or sound bites about multiple natural disasters, just to gain popularity points or to up TV ratings. Big thanks again to the head of my 'research department', MamaJoyce, for getting Ranger, Steph, and I, through this chapter. Everyone familiar belongs to Janet. Mistakes are mine.**

 **Steph's POV**

I didn't move off him, hoping the contact would help him see that he _is_ home and safe from everything except his thoughts and memories, but Ranger still couldn't sleep. When he drifted off for longer than three seconds, he jerked awake with his gun already in his hand before his eyes actually opened, issuing orders, or trying to save me again. My nerves and emotions were completely frayed, but that's nothing compared to the sweat and anguish I saw on his face as I literally watched him travel back in time and then return to me again.

"How about we just go walk along your little beach?" I suggested, trying to sound normal as well as supportive of anything he wants to say or do so he wouldn't retreat into himself and away from me. "I can't sleep if you can't, so we can stay here and just snuggle or get some fresh air and exercise. Jesus, I can't believe I just said that ... _out loud_ no less. I'd do anything for you ... even exercise. Clearly loving you has fucked with my head a bit."

My declaration of love was rewarded with a ghost of grin. "Mine's fucked, too."

"Was that a joke?" I asked, honestly not sure.

Ranger-humor is hard to detect on a _good_ day, during a rocky night ... I really had to ask.

"Could be."

I sat up and took the sheet with me, telling myself not to get sidetracked by his naked body. He needs _me_ right now, not exactly the distraction or emotional release that comes with making love with/to me.

"Let me snag my clothes and then we can head out," I told him.

"I'm used to this, Babe. You should try to get some sleep. I'll be fine."

"Sorry. This diamond you gave me seems to be acting as a magnet," I informed him, flashing my left hand in his direction. "Where _you_ go, _I_ do _,_ too. If you can't rest, neither can I."

I scooped up our clothes and quickly dressed and brushed my teeth right beside him as he did the same. I then laced my fingers through his as we exited the house and took the small path from the stairs of the front porch down to the rocky beach. I shivered since the sun, and the heat it generates, are no-shows for hours to come. He pulled me closer, which gave me a reason to wrap both arms around his waist and hang on.

We walked along the water for awhile, but I got to see the sun start to appear over the eastern part of the water from my hard yet comfy seat on Ranger's leg, with his arms closed tight around me. Despite the uncomfortable night he's just had, he still insisted on putting his body between me and the ground. I was a little cold and a lot tired, but that's preferable to being warm but watching him struggle internally as he remembered things I still can't completely comprehend. Just being by the water and focusing his eyes on the oddly hypnotic way the slight waves were hitting the shore seemed to help him more than just lying in bed staring into the darkness towards the bedroom ceiling did.

All things considered, it wasn't a bad way to start the day. The pink tint to the sky had an optimistic feel to it, like we've weathered our personal storm and now we'll be having a flawless blue sky, warm temp, sunny, day as a reward for it. Turns out, our morning was just the eye of said storm. We stayed on the beach until the sun left the water and reached for the sky and we started seeing boaters venture out. They were pretty far from us, but their appearance still felt like a major intrusion.

"How are you feeling?" I asked Ranger, turning my head that had been lying against his shoulder. "Are you getting tired?"

"I passed tired weeks ago, but I know I won't be able to sleep."

He's gone God only knows how many hours, or even _days_ , without actual sleep or rest of any kind. And although he has dark shadows in - and around - his eyes, they stayed watchful and achingly alert. Personal insight took a bat to my head again ... like it did when I saw that he couldn't even take a fucking shower without a weapon inches from his hand. He's never going to feel safe ever again. And no matter where he is, or who he's with, his ability to fully relax is totally gone now. Figuring out how to prevent your potential death in just about every situation you find yourself in, and always needing to be on the lookout for hidden dangers to save yourself or someone else, isn't an instinct you can turn off just because you want to. It's become so ingrained in him, he scans for - and reacts to - possible threats as automatically as he breathes.

I hurt for him even as my respect for him grew. I mean, where can he go and what can he do, when it's his own mind and subconscious that continues to hurt him? It's not like he can just shake his head vigorously like an Etch A Sketch and erase all the bad stuff from it. Nor can he just pop his brain out and stick it in a closet somewhere just to get a break from his thoughts, memories, or reactions, for a few minutes. He has to live and deal with everything he's seen and done because there are _no_ other options. They're as much a part of who he is as his DNA is.

It didn't matter what disaster I've survived, the second I spot him on the scene and his arms come around me ... I instantly feel safe and loved. I can't wipe out all the pain and misery he's witnessed and endured, I can only try to make him feel just as loved when I hold him.

But when a boater decided to be friendly and blast their horn to say 'hi' to another boater he knew, Ranger's body jumped beneath me. I'd had enough. I was suddenly angry at myself for letting him be hurt again due to someone else's actions. He's supposed to protect everyone from every kind of threat, and I can't even make him feel safe at his own home. First Morelli happened, then I couldn't love him enough to keep the nightmares away from him, and now I'm mentally swearing at boaters for making his startle responses even worse.

"Okay, you can't sleep," I said to him, "but we can do other things. Starting with me making coffee. We both need it."

"Or we could go back to bed and I can just hold you. Now that I'm back and able to again."

"I'd say it's a date then, since I can find _nothing_ wrong with that plan."

He kept me pressed to his side, like someone would who'd just sprained an ankle and needed an assist. My sneakers and his boots disappeared as soon as we reached the bedroom. I used to be self-conscious about my addiction to him and the need for his touch even when I probably should've kept my distance. I'd been embarrassed by my need for him _period_ , but knowing just how much my body and presence calms him, gave me a new confidence in myself and even more respect for what he and I have together.

Back in bed, I combed the fingers of my right hand through his hair and used my left one to try to relax the muscles along his neck and back, hoping I could lull him into that drowsy/happy feeling right before you fall asleep... if not actual sleep.

It took almost an hour before his eyes would even completely close. I waited much longer than that until I thought he was fully asleep before I tried to get up for a quick trip to the bathroom. My discomfort isn't anything compared to his, so I purposely waited until it was taken out of my hands and risked wetting the bed, which would likely _disturb_ him more than getting out of bed. I tried to move as little as possible as I slid away from his body, but two muscled bands immediately closed around me before I'd gone more than an inch.

I turned in Ranger's arms and whispered near his ear. "I'm just heading to the bathroom. I'll be right back. Keep my spot warm for me. Okay? I'll only be gone for a minute."

I pressed a kiss to his mouth before untangling myself from him. I had just enough time to flush before I heard him outside the bathroom door. I was only out of his sight for forty-five seconds, but apparently even _that_ was too long for him. I hurried up to wash my hands so he wouldn't have to worry more. The door is unlocked, but he didn't come in. Yet I can easily picture him leaning against the solid wood barrier, counting the seconds until I came out. I would have rejoined him sooner, but I noticed something odd in the mirror when I absently glanced at it. There was some bruising along my neck that wasn't there last time I looked in a bathroom mirror at Rangeman.

"Fucking Morelli," I said to my reflection, worrying that if _I_ saw them, so would Ranger.

He sees _everything_. Since he is right outside the door, I don't have many options. But thankfully I'm so used to carrying my cell with me so I wouldn't miss a call in case Ranger _did_ have a chance to make contact while he was away, I automatically grab it whenever I go somewhere. Now I'm able to call Tank where hopefully Ranger wouldn't hear too well.

"What happened?" Tank asked, before the first ring even finished.

"Ranger's okay," I assured him. "He's tired, but he's talking and seems to be better."

" _But_?"

"He won't let me out of his sight and I just noticed that my neck is a little bruised thanks to Morelli ..."

"That fucker left bruises on you?"

"He was an asshole for touching me at all, but when Joe grabbed my shirt he caught Ranger's tags which jerked my neck a little. I'm terrified this will cause another 'episode' that I won't be able to stop."

"I'm on my way with reinforcements."

"Shit. You think this will cause him to go off, too, don't you?'

" _Going off_ would be preferable to what I'm picturing."

"Shit."

"I'll be there soon. Do what you can to keep your neck from being visible."

"That was my plan. _Nothing_ is getting past him, though. He's running on less than fumes, but he can't rest or relax at all. He's as alert as I'm betting he was over there."

"That's to be expected. Where is he now?"

"Outside the bathroom door, but I thought he was actually sleeping when I got up. I should've just stayed put."

"None of this is your fault, Steph. Trust me on this one. If he didn't have you, he'd be in worse shape right now."

He went quiet and my stomach dropped without knowing why.

"I don't want to scare you," he continued, after a few beats, "but if Ranger's already been triggered, this will shoot him right over the edge."

" _Fuck_. I already knew that, but I didn't actually want to hear it."

"I'll be there soon. We'll get him through this, too."

I sighed and then took a new breath in. "Alright. I'll do everything I can to prevent another situation, but please, please, _pleeeease,_ hurry."

"I'm already pulling out of my driveway."

"Good. And thanks, Tank. I can't lose him now."

"You won't. We'll make sure of it."

My nerves and exhaustion made me ask. "How do you do this?"

"You don't have a choice. If you love the person, _you do_ whatever _they need_ for as long as _they_ require it."

"I do love him, and _you_ for helping us."

"Keep him calm. ETA's forty-minutes."

"Ten-four. Over and out."

If this weren't so scary and heartbreaking, I know he would've fought a grin at my lame attempt to fit into their world. We have more important things to do right now than have a bonding moment over what I still have left to learn.

I plastered my cell to my leg so it wouldn't be the first thing Ranger saw and then I opened the door. He had been standing with each side of the door jamb under his hands and his forehead tipped forward against the door ... not trusting what could happen to me where he couldn't see me. He's such a good guy, he got as close to me as he could without invading my privacy like I've done to him numerous times already as I tried to love him through this.

"You didn't have to get up," I told him.

He didn't exactly say he needed to be sure I was safe, but I felt that reason emanating from him.

"You were gone for too long," he told me.

"I'm sorry. I let Tank know you were okay while I was already up," I said, trying not to feel guilty since it was a mostly true answer. "He's hoping to swing by for a visit this morning. He missed his best friend, too."

There was an uncomfortable pause and I wondered if I screwed up by showing a partial hand, but once again Ranger put everyone else's needs and feelings before his own.

"Tank worries more than my mother," he said finally.

"Only about those he cares about. He claims to not give "two shits" about what happens to a particularly nasty a-hole he captures." Ranger didn't smile, but we aren't completely there yet so I hadn't expected one. "I don't know about you, but I'm ready to go back to bed. As far as I can tell, you haven't slept at all."

"This is as restful as I get for days, sometimes weeks, after coming home."

Just when I think I can't hurt anymore for him, a fresh wave of pain sucker punches me. His job had been to rescue people. And he did. Yet all he can see is what he had to do to accomplish that heroic feat. My pain is _my_ problem to deal with, not his so I wrapped my arms around him and tugged him towards the bed. I never thought I'd ever have to actively convince him to get into a bed with me, but he seemed slightly hesitant. He isn't seeing it as a place to relax, or even where we made love, the bed is its own kind of enemy to him, where he's forced to lie still and confront any memory shot at him.

If I wasn't here, he'd likely be working himself into exhaustion or beating the stuffing out of a bag in a gym somewhere. He doesn't want to be away from me, though, and the feeling is entirely mutual, so we unconsciously agreed to figure out our new roles as two halves of one unbreakable couple. I didn't want to start anything that could get interrupted by Tank's arrival, which meant I had to settle for Ranger using my breasts as only a pillow-substitute while I tried to physically relax his muscles with my hands if I couldn't give his brain an actual breather.

I did the finger comb-thing again through his hair, but he didn't fall into a peaceful sleep like I was praying he'd be able to do. He's going to need an IV bag filled with straight caffeine soon just to be able to function. Or maybe that's just me, since he's trained to survive with little more than his body, water, and a power bar.

I heard nothing, but at the thirty-eight minute mark, Ranger bolted off the bed, grabbing his weapon and my wrist simultaneously. Even giving him a heads-up about Tank coming over didn't help him brace for it. I would've reamed myself out for not telling him the exact time Tank would get here, but I honestly don't think Ranger's reaction would be any different.

"It's only Tank," I tried to tell him, but he was already in _defend-to-the-end_ mode.

I was put between his body and the wall as he checked the window that overlooked the driveway. I couldn't see anything except the back of Batman, but his gun was no longer looking for a clear shot. _That_ told me more than anything could that it was Tank ... and I'd guess Bobby, possibly Lester, too. I felt oddly relieved that they're here, but at the same time ... Tank showing up ASAP scared me on a whole new level. Them dropping everything to come out here, meant they felt there's a reason to.

It didn't take long for me to see with my own eyes why they wanted, no _needed,_ to come. Ranger was turning to tell me that it's just his men, we're not being attacked, but no matter how I turned or arranged my curls that I'd purposely left down, he zeroed in on the spots where my neck was no longer immortal-pale.

The slight relaxing of his body stopped before his muscles got any benefit from it. I've compared him to a cat in the past and, to me, him going dead-still was similar to that heart-thumping moment that happens right before they pounce on their prey. The cold, already calculating, look in Ranger's eyes had me terrified all over again. Not that he'd hurt me, but that he'd head out after Morelli and finish what he started the night before. Which is what he clearly intends to do.

"I'll try the house first," he said, sounding like he was working out a plan of attack with himself. He jabbed the weapon he was holding into his waistband at the small of his back, and he then reached into the closet beside me and pulled out another gun already tucked inside a shoulder holster. "It should be too early for the station, but I'll drive by there first to see if his POS's in the lot, before I hit Slater Street."

That was said as he secured the second weapon in place and then stuck his feet into his boots, lacing them like he isn't even consciously aware he's doing it. Every one of his movements were deliberate and methodical. He has another 'job' to do and his body and training are preparing him for it. He isn't thinking about any of his actions, he's moving instinctively. If I had time to analyze it, I'd guess this is my first real glimpse of the 'Ranger' he is for the Army when he isn't just solely _my Ranger_.

He swiveled and left me in the dust. " _Oh God_ ," I said, right before I took off after him.

The guys will be between him and any vehicle on the property, but that actually scared me more than it made me feel better. I already know how focused on 'the enemy' he got with Morelli for just grabbing my clothing, and I think it was only his need for me that prevented a life-ending gunshot. I definitely DO NOT want to see what he'd do to Joe if he thought Morelli physically harmed me.

As I ran down the stairs as fast as I could without taking a header down them, I worried to the point of tears that _I_ wouldn't be enough to get through to him again and he'd have to live with hurting a friend, or three, who _I_ had called for help. I know how _that_ would feel because I couldn't live with being the catalyst for this whole nightmare because _I_ chose to tell Morelli off instead of just running him over, and _I'm_ also the one who called Tank and issued an S.O.S. that he immediately responded to.

I shoved the self-blame to the back of my brain to deal with later. I have to stay in control myself to keep my man from losing his as we make it through another round of 'civilian' life. My confidence wavered as I sped into the kitchen calling Ranger's name to find him swearing out loud.

"Where are my keys? They're always by the door where I can find them. How did this happen? I know where everything is at _all times_. I need my _fucking keys! Where the fuck are they?!_ "

I'd tucked the truck keys into the pocket of my pants as I was getting him into the house yesterday, and I had a moment of panic, or brilliance depending how you look at it, and I'd snagged the set I'd seen hanging on a hook so he couldn't sneak off in the middle of the night without me on the off chance I conked out on him. That foresight didn't make _him_ very happy, though, because the key holder was knocked off the wall and fell behind a chair tucked under the small kitchen table, as he became more and more agitated when his search came up empty.

As much as I hate Morelli at this point, I don't want Ranger to have his death on his conscience along with everything else he's carrying around, so I tried not to feel guilty about frustrating my guy like this by not giving him access to the truck. I'm not sure what to do, though. And I don't want to make the situation worse, not that I could. Things have quickly gone from bad to possibly uncontrollable. And knowing how much he prides himself on being in control made me ache for him in a way that reached physical pain.

I kept one eye on him and opened the door for the guys. I didn't want to risk a Ranger-reaction to a sudden knock or unexpected invasion of our beach Bat Cave. I also didn't want to subject the men to another painful situation, but as much as I hated to admit it ... I need help here.

As Ranger searched the kitchen drawers, or more accurately _attacked_ them, next ... his frantic monologue went something like this ..."Where the fuck are they? _Everything_ should be in its fucking place! Why aren't they by the fucking door? I _make sure_ they're by the God-damned fucking door ... when I'm here, at my apartment, in my office. My shit is _always_ where I can fucking find it!"

I couldn't tell if his talking was to ground himself or if he's just working himself into a bigger frenzy. His dark eyes sized up my Rangeman reinforcement team when the six of them filed into our Deal kitchen. He took about fifteen seconds to scan and deem them not an actual threat to us, which was good because he's clearly pissed beyond all reason. But thankfully he _is_ still here. I held onto that knowledge. Now we just have to _keep_ him here. We all understood that preventing Ranger from doing something he's hell-bent on doing, is going to be the hard part. Especially when he started barking orders at his men even as he continued his hunt.

"Move your asses and find my fucking keys," he stated. "My shit is put where it's supposed to be so this won't fucking happen. Where the fuck _are they?_ "

I felt their struggle to not immediately jump to do what he ordered them to, but we know nothing good would come of it. Tank, Bobby, Lester, Bones, Cal, and Hal, are pretty substantial guys, but they made sure to keep space between themselves and me. I might as well have bright yellow 'Caution' tape strung all around me. Ranger didn't shoot them, but I guess they believe he won't hesitate to if I'm approached after already being "attacked" - and still require protection - in his mind. Just when I think Joe can't hurt me anymore, he finds a new wound to pry open and proceeds to grind things into it.

"Don't just stand there," the Boss commanded. " _Move_. _NOW_."

"Ranger," Tank said in a calm tone, "let me and our team deal with this. Steph needs you here more than you need to leave."

"He's right, Batman. I really do need you with me. Please don't leave me here alone."

We were basically talking to a house that's burning down at this point, even my voice had no effect on him. Ranger continued to fume and the green tea bags paid the price. They went flying as he dumped out, and then dropped, the stainless-steel canister holding them. I could almost see him picturing my brown bear cookie jar that held my gun. So a counter container acting as a possible car/truck key hidey-hole made sense. But maybe he targeted it just because it was near him, because he ravaged all the kitchen drawers next.

He didn't waste time searching through everything, he just pulled out the drawers, dumped the contents onto the floor, then dropped the drawer itself when he didn't immediately spot what he was after. I managed to catch the coffee maker by its ripped out cord before it hit the floor, too, in his haste to move onto the next cabinet or potential hiding spot. I don't understand how his red-hot rage could make my skin feel ice cold, but it felt like the sparks emanating from his body shot off icicles that pierced my skin everywhere.

Ranger headed to the coat closet as he ran out of things to look through, not hearing any of our pleas or promises. His ongoing bewildered rant about missing things, how this could happen when his stuff is always in the right spot, and why he isn't already on the road, increased in speed and volume by the second. Unfortunately, he was just building up his temper, not wearing his body down or using his energy up. The guys knew what they were walking into, but to me ... this is more than a little shocking since as long as I've known Ranger, he's _never_ raised his voice.

Normally, the only way I can tell he's angry or upset is he'll use my full name. Even his occasional ' _Fucks_ ' are said like they're part of a casual conversation. But this is actual _fury_ and he wasn't holding back his anger and frustration at suddenly being at a disadvantage ... something he's not used to if _ever_ experienced beyond childhood. As terrified as I am, I'm actually grateful that he's so focused on finding his keys and righting a major wrong in his world, otherwise this anger and energy would've been turned on his men if he immediately went for whatever vehicle/vehicles the guys arrived in. But something of _his_ is misplaced, and to Ranger ... that kind of disorder in his life is almost as unacceptable as Morelli touching me.

When he didn't find anything in the pockets of the jackets he pulled out, inside-outed, and threw aside, we all could see the exact moment he decided to rely on nothing except himself and his body to get to Morelli. He dropped the last Rangeman jacket on the floor and turned towards the door. The lake of expression on his face didn't match the anger in his eyes. Both made me thank God that there's a wall of Rangeman muscle preparing to move into position.

"Ranger," Tank tried again, using a tone I'd call a soothing broadcaster one. "I've already taken care of this while you were taking care of Stephanie. Not only is our mutual enemy not moving comfortably, he won't be working for the TPD anymore if they want to keep their 'donations' coming and their reputation intact."

"We took care of the threat," Bobby added. "You made it back. Your woman's safe and needs you. And we're here for whatever you both need."

"You don't have to do anything except take care of Stephanie and yourself. We've got your six. You know that," Tank added. "You just need to take a minute and calm down."

My sniffles got louder as I lost the battle to keep my eyes from going from just watery to outright crying. _No one_ should have to go through this kind of mental hell, especially the man I can't breathe normally without.

As Batman worked himself into a irritated, homicidal state, his men were preparing for their own battle. They can't beat Ranger in the gym even when he's pulling his punches. _Now,_ when he's fully engaged and enraged, means someone is going to get hurt. But on all of their faces, I could see that they are going to do everything they can to make sure it's not me or their leader/mentor/and father figure, that is in pain. The phrase ' _I'd take a bullet for you_ ' is thrown around a lot, but with these guys, it's actually a solemn vow. They'd dive onto a live grenade to protect one of their own, and I have a sinking feeling that's what they're about to do.

They came here today knowing they may have to contain a pissed off, murderous Army Ranger-shaped grenade, and not one of them cared what happens to themselves if he _does_ explode, even when everyone's body language screamed 'there's no way this can end well'. Their concern was all for their friend. If something happened to me, the guys would all feel it, but if something happened to _Ranger_ , it'd kill them.

As they moved closer to my guy, I said a silent prayer that trying to prevent their leader from taking out an enemy wouldn't get _them_ killed. Ranger paused and stared at them all for a scary five seconds before not only dismissing them, but now realizing that he has another transportation option. In all honesty, though Deal is an hour away from Trenton by car, I have no doubt he could make it there in twenty minutes on foot with hate and a grudge fueling him. I gave myself a quick pep talk ... _'Stephanie, you're going to have to woman up and then step up to save not only your guy, but our friends in the process_.'

The Rangeguys closed ranks around their boss and all the air left my lungs. A trapped animal will fight twice as hard when threatened. Ranger without a gun or knife on him is still a deadly weapon, so I really wanted to shout to our guys to run, but he and I need them. Plus, I know they'd never leave anyway. Any of them could and would shoot Morelli in the head and declare it a public service, but they'd gut themselves before letting their boss get hurt.

Tank took point and approached his best friend cautiously. "I'll find your keys for you. It'll just take a second or two. You and Steph can sit and relax and just let me take care of it. If I can't find them, I'll go get you mine."

That got him shoved aside. Tank became just an obstacle between my guy and the door. I was hoping I could get Ranger calm so no one would be injured, but all he can see is a dead Morelli, and nothing and no one was going to keep him from making it happen. Before Ranger made it another step, Tank glanced at the guys and nodded a go-ahead to a plan they already have in place.

He then got Ranger in a bear hug as Bobby and Lester simultaneously went for his arms ... or tried to anyway. Batman was having none of it. They ceased to be his friends, and became unlucky obstructions placed between him and his goal. He flung Bobby far enough that he was able to punch Lester in the jaw with his temporarily free arm. Tank is bigger than Ranger, but even he couldn't subdue him. If you combined an angry grizzly bear, hungry great white shark, and a pissed off mountain lion, that creature still couldn't compete with how enraged Ranger became when he got free. Tank had been trying to talk him down, explaining why they were all there and the reason why they were trying to stop him from leaving, but for all his efforts and patience, he was knocked aside, too.

In normal circumstances, the soothing tone Tank was using would've had me falling into a pretty sound sleep. It was having the opposite effect on Ranger. He's fighting them harder now than he was a minute ago. When Lester got thrown, his tricep got cut on the edge of a drawer that had been pulled out. And in his own stumble to the floor from Ranger's shove, Bobby got the corner of the kitchen table rammed into his side before one table leg snapped off under the force of the fall and the chairs went everywhere.

" _Ranger_ , _please_ stop," I said, slapping away the tears that are free-falling at this point. "You're really scaring me right now. Oh God, please calm down and stop fighting them. The guys are only trying to help."

But he's mentally gone from me again in another frightening way. He felt under attack and he was not going to be restrained even for his own good. So when Tank tried to 'capture' him again, the six of them moved as one man. Tank went for Ranger's torso again, while Lester and Bobby grabbed his arms and held on for dear life this time because theirs will likely end if they let go at all. And Cal and Hal tried to gain control of his legs.

That plan didn't work very well. Ranger's legs are even stronger than his arms and he used one to push someone as big as Hal onto his backside like he weighed nothing at all. Cal was next. Ranger was trying to fling Bobby and Lester so he'd have his arms free to dislodge Tank, but they didn't let go despite the amount of pain Ranger's fists and feet managed to repeatedly inflict on them. It didn't matter which limb was being held, my guy managed to use some part of it as a weapon against his captors.

Cal and Hal got back into the fight, and all five, with Bones helping wherever he could, worked together and fought like hell to get Ranger off his feet and down to the kitchen floor.

"Oh God _, don't hurt him!_ " I yelled, even though I could see that Tank used his own body to take the brunt of the fall, which I'm now afraid got him a couple rib fractures.

Ranger's not a small man, and him landing on you is going to cause some damage. He has trouble just letting me hold him after we make love because he's scared that his weight will crush me if he isn't holding some of it up off me. But Tank chose to fall on the sword and not let his friend's physical hurts match his mental ones. If having over two hundred pounds of extremely pissed off muscle landing with force on you wasn't bad enough, Ranger took his four friends down with him. And Tank, being the base of the military-mountain, suffered yet another huge blow to the injuries he's already sustained as Bones jumped onto my kicking, grunting, punching, Ranger who doesn't know the meaning of the words ' _give up_ '.

I knew their goal was the same as a bull riders, to hang on for a set amount of time. But this took a hell of a lot longer than eight seconds. The struggling to get free, the opposing one to hang on, with my circling the huge man-pile begging and pleading, took more like eighteen minutes from the time they all hit the floor to when Ranger started showing a slight sign of slowing down.

I felt like this was my chance to get through to him. Using my body to reach his mind isn't going to happen this time around, so I tried to line my face up with the one belonging to my special guy, while diligently trying not to get hit by anyone's flailing or fighting limbs. I blocked out the blood and the curses and concentrated on using Ranger's Achilles heel ... which I learned is an upset or scared _Me_.

"Careful, Steph," Lester managed to get out in between grunts and winces as I leaned in closer to them. He looked more exhausted and worried than I could handle. "It'll destroy him if he accidentally hurts you."

"And it will destroy _me_ if I can't help him. He saves me all the time, so I'm just returning the favor. Shit, Bones ... _put that syringe away!_ I know you guys are hurting, but please ... _please_... just give me a little more time to get through to him."

I'm a slow learner so it took me two months of working for Rangeman to figure out how ' _Bones_ ' got his nickname. He has a medical background dating four generations back and ' _sawbones_ ' had been thrown around the control room a lot when my guys were showing their 'appreciation' for the patching up he did on all of them after a particularly nasty apprehension or break-in calls when the unfortunate intruder was still on-scene when they got there. Ranger was still attempting to fling off anyone who touched him, so a Medic, Corpsman, or just a regular 'ol person doctor, would be handy right about now, but I still wouldn't want any of them sticking a needle into my guy and drugging him into cooperating.

Tank is larger in scale, but Ranger has bone-burning rage working on his side. Both men have called me fearless in the past, and I know I have to be exactly that right now. I used the blue eyes Ranger claims to lose himself in to try to make a different kind of body connection.

"You're scaring me again, Batman," I said, raising my voice to be heard over the kicks and/or nudges landing where Ranger aimed them, along with the accompanying grunts and swears as one or another buddy absorbed the blow. "Only the people who love you are here. We're okay. You're home. I'm safe. _Please_ just look at me so I'll know you're alright."

I wanted to start bawling because he didn't seem to be reacting to me at all. I couldn't touch him because he continued to struggle to get himself loose and Lester wasn't joking about Ranger being destroyed if he accidentally hurt me. He still viciously fought the grips of his men while he shouted for me to run and lock myself into the safe room downstairs. I can't help him if I'm not with him, so me going _anywhere_ is _not_ going to happen. I wouldn't be worthy of him if I gave up so easily on easing the pain he's now in. No matter how much I've put him through, he has always shown up when I need him. I don't deserve him if I can't stay put and do the same. I'm not at all willing to step aside while someone else helps him, so I amped up my attempts to break through his current mental barrier.

"You're scaring the shit out of me, Big Guy. Please calm down just so I can. I need you. Ranger, _please_... oh God _please_... just look at me. I'm here for you, you just have to look at me to know I'm telling you the truth."

He was getting a bit tired so his attempts to gain freedom slowed minimally. It didn't appear like a huge difference, but I felt monumentally relieved. The guys are hurt, Ranger will be even more so when he realizes what happened, but we'll all make it through this. I kept talking, hoping he'd finally reach 'too tired to react' and stop fighting so he could really hear and pay attention to what I'm saying.

"I'm okay, Batman. Just focus on me and my voice and you'll know that. Please, just calm down and _LOOK ... AT_... _ME!_ "

I glued my eyes to his sweaty, bloody, and strained, face and didn't even blink for fear he'd revert back to outright fighting his friends, rather than just trying to break free.

"I'm not going anywhere, Big Guy. I'm staying right here with you. If you don't want me upset, you have to stop fighting them."

That didn't change his mind or current mood, and he chose to try to fling Lester again, but I noticed Santos didn't go far. I took that as a sign that Ranger's almost completely worn out and maybe now I'd have more 'time with him'.

He happened to turn his head towards me and I kept up the eye contact. "Stay with me, Batman. I need you. I'm scared and this is hurting me because I know you're hurting. _Please_ , Ranger, keep those chocolately eyes on me and I promise that we'll get through this together. I need you to come back to me. I need you right now period."

For once, my swollen, red-rimmed eyes worked in my favor. He scanned my face and I tried to wipe it dry in case my crying registered somewhere in his consciousness and hurt him all over again. I could feel the tension lessen in the kitchen. Our guys appear to believe him staring at me is an extremely good thing, but they still didn't release him.

We all watched as realization dawned on him, when the situation became clear in his mind and he understood what had just gone on here. The guys had tried to spare him the bruises, breaks, and cuts, they'd all received in the battle he had just waged with himself. Now it's _my_ turn to try to prevent any new _emotional_ scars from forming. Ranger was hard enough on himself when he checked out yesterday after subduing Joe, knowing that I saw him in an almost catatonic-like state. Him losing control and physically attacking men he cares about, with me right in the thick of it, will crush him if I'm not careful.

I felt like one wrong word from me and I'd lose him. He'd decide that I'm safer - and much better off - without him, or that I'll never understand him or what he's gone or goes through, without giving me a chance to convince him that isn't true. If _I_ disappear, Ranger asks the control to check where in Point Pleasant I am. If _Ranger_ chooses to disappear, _no one_ would be able to find him or even pinpoint his last location.

Letting go of him, or allowing him to push me away for my own good, aren't options. As he looked at me while the guys were still holding him, I reached my arms out to him. He had stopped fighting, but we all stayed where we were and held our breaths as we waited to see if we'd survived another side effect of serving our country ... or just loving someone who is. My eyes and stomach felt scraped raw watching the man I love losing it over something that never should've happened in the first, and being held against his will because of it.

Ranger was listening to me, didn't look away from me, and he made no move to attack them, so one by one the men let their death grips on him go. Bones got off Ranger, Hal let go of his left leg and Cal stopped holding onto the one I'd been sitting on outside only a few hours ago.

When 'The Boss' didn't kick anyone now that he's actually free to do so, Bobby and Lester each released his arms one at a time. Tank held onto his friend the longest. Despite the major beating his body just took, he kept his arms around Ranger and stood up with him. I got chills because it felt like a special kind of hug between the two that could only happen - and be understood - by people who have to fight wars like this every day at home ... not just overseas.

Tank finally let go and all six of them parted like the Red Sea so Ranger could come to me. He didn't. He didn't say anything, either, but the internal pain showing outwardly on his battle worn face spoke volumes. I'm fluent in Manoso, so I could hear the mental ass-chewing he's giving himself ... about scaring me, almost killing his friends, the death of Morelli that would've happened had his band of brothers not hauled ass to get here. That ripped my emotions apart all over again, because Ranger has suffered far too much already.

My Range-team are sore, bleeding, and likely broken in a few spots, but no one was willing to move until Ranger was safely in my arms. Everyone seems to know he needs me and wanted to hold me, but he now felt scared to try in case I reject him. I know he'd never harm me, but he still believes I'd think he could and be terrified of him. That can't be anymore untrue, but the doubt on his face when I opened my arms to him, inflated my already overwhelming love for him.

Not only has he said in the past that he needs me, I finally believe him. He's been the strong one since we met, but it took a crash course in his life - like the last sixteen hours have been - to prove to myself that I can be just as strong and love him just as hard.

"It's alright," I said to my man in black. "We're all okay. Or I would be if I could hold you for a couple days without ever having to let you go. But I'll settle for just a twenty-minute bear hug right now if you're handing them out."

I detected a slight shudder in his big body as my request hit him, but it broke my heart that he seemed hesitant to touch me. Considering how he's held me after every nightmare I've survived, I can't bear him thinking he doesn't have the right to hold me after one of his. I'd warned him that I'd changed while he'd been away. And I have. I no longer waited for him to come to me, instead ... I ran straight to him. Like I promised him before he left ... I'm his and l will _always_ be here waiting for him.

His arms closed around me with an almost bruising force as I clung just as fiercely to his shaking body, with a shiny new set of tears pouring down my face. I tried not to let the actual sobs escape so he wouldn't hurt more than he currently is, but in his arms with my face pressed into his chest ... I cried for him, for those images and the mental anguish he's never going to be able to completely forget or escape, and for completely understanding now that when people like him promise to give their lives for what they believe in, there are _so many ways_ they do that without their bodies physically dying.


	6. Chapter 6

**All familiar characters belong to Janet. The mistakes are mine alone.**

 **Chapter 6**

 **Ranger's POV**

I lost it. And there's no way to make that bitter pill less painful to swallow. That on its own will be agonizing to live with, but there is still something worse. Although she's trying hard not to let me see how upset I've made her, my t-shirt can't lie. Stephanie's crying is soaking it ... and it's my own fucking fault. I can't keep my shit together anymore. That's twice in twenty-four hours I've checked out and scared the woman who has become my sole connection to life, love, and sanity. I need her too much to have fucked up like this.

If she leaves me, seeking the safety of Trenton nowhere near me, I'll lose it again and likely not recover. She kept seven people alive, and there's no way of repaying her for that, and for what she's done separately for me far beyond that. Facing my men and apologizing for injuring and almost killing them will be easier than asking _her_ forgiveness ... and asking her to still love me despite what she's had to witness recently.

I looked down at her bent head as I brought my hands up to cup her face and dry her eyes, but that's when I saw blood on my hands again ... Mike's, Little Bear's ... and everyone - and every _body_ \- before and now after them. I froze for three seconds before dropping my hands and shooting out of the kitchen to the shower to scrub the feel and scent of war off me again. I can't touch all that's good in my world when I'm coated in the worst it has to offer. I swore to myself that I'd never bring that kind of horror home to her, but she was on the front lines just standing in the kitchen here.

"Don't go," I heard Steph say, from what sounded like a distance away.

I don't know if it was said to me or the men, but my body moved on its own. I have to get the blood the fuck off me. It never goes away ... the feeling of being smothered in gore and regret.

I made it to the bathroom and jerked my shirt over my head, flinging it inside out near the sink. Not only did Stephanie not leave tire tracks getting away from the house and me, she ran into the bathroom right behind me, closing the door so we would be alone.

She spoke quietly from across the room, giving me a heads-up that she's here so I wouldn't jump or swing at her if I weren't aware that she'd followed me. She reached carefully out to me. Her expression said she's hoping I don't flinch or pull away from her.

"Let me do that," she said in a calm voice, putting her hands on mine and tugging them off the waistband I'd been in the process of undoing.

Either she ran up here fast enough to dry the tears that had been pouring out of her, or she had been giving herself a different talking to than I was giving myself. Although her eyes are still red and puffy, I don't see any moisture on her face. The woman who fearlessly approached me now isn't afraid of - or disgusted by - me. Her only reason for hesitating is she's figuring out how to help me this time.

Having formulated a plan of attack, she got my boots off, urging me to hold onto her shoulders as she did. She isn't concerned about me falling, she quickly learned that physical contact with her is keeping me as grounded as anything could. Since my shirt is already gone, she unbuttoned and unzipped my pants, pushing them down my legs. Her actions are so methodical, they're calming just to watch. The storm tearing my mind apart quieted again. I have to be okay just so she can be.

She got the water running and tugged me towards the stall and nudged me under the spray, only to remember after the fact that her clothes are still on her body.

"Shit," she said distractedly, and then she started pulling everything off in as much of a hurry as I'd been when I first came in here.

Getting me naked wasn't her goal, cleansing my body and soul again was. Her hands filled with shower gel and she began washing the blood, embarrassment, and memories, off of me. She took her time and used great care in cleaning in-between every one of my fingers, bravely not grimacing at the torn flesh around my knuckles. She isn't about to leave a trace of what transpired downstairs on me. She can't heal the cuts, make the bruises disappear, or stop the knowledge that I attacked my men from attacking me for the rest of my life, but what she can make better, she will.

Once the water running off me was clear rather than a deluded pink, her hands slid up my forearms, gentle so she wouldn't reinjure the skin I'd rubbed raw during my last shower before she'd stepped in. No matter how many I take, the amount of shower gel I use, how long I stay in them, or scour my skin during them, I never leave the shower feeling clean. Stephanie loves the way my shower gel smells, but I can always detect the unforgettable combination of blood, sweat, dirt, and death, lurking under the citrus scent.

My chest and legs got the same treatment despite the wounds there being just half-healed gouges, cuts, and discolorations. She didn't have to waste time on those, but she's intensely focused on my body and no part of me is escaping her attention even if it's not as damaged as the rest of me. One thing I've always admired about Stephanie, she's so thorough ... she'll never leave a case or a person until they are completely figured out. She may not know all the gory details of my mission, but she's determined to wipe away all the after effects of it nonetheless.

I thought I was being selfish for wanting her when I knew this was a possibility, but her devotion to me and my men has me believing otherwise. I've never wanted her exposed to this side of me, yet I now know she can handle it ... and handle me better than I can.

This time around, she didn't wash my hair. Instead, she captured my face in her hands when the rest of me was rinsed to her liking, and she sealed her mouth to mine. If she hadn't already done her best to scrub the shit off my soul, this kiss alone would have healed more than a few of my war wounds. She isn't using sex to distract me, she's using her mouth in another way to tell me that she loves me, accepts all of me, and isn't leaving me. At least, I'm praying those are her current thoughts.

I slid my hands as far as I could into her now soaked curls and took control of the kiss and her mouth. I am - and have been - hard, but I know she'd be uncomfortable doing anything more than kissing in the shower with the men nearby. They're likely worried all over again right now, concerned about Stephanie ... and whether it was safe for her to be alone with me.

It's a known fact that I would _never_ hurt her, but my actions over the course of last night and this morning could have shaken their belief in me and shifted their loyalty instantly to Stephanie if they think she'll be hurt in any way. I may have been out of control, but there is always a level of it I'm in fact keeping. _No one_ except Morelli was going to die, _until_ someone stood in the way of my objective or tried to restrain me. My anger was/still is red-hot, but my intent was coldly deliberate.

With her initial kiss, I believe Stephanie was conveying she knew that and isn't afraid of me or my reactions, just terrified _for_ me and what could happen to me because of them. For this reason, whatever I do pales in comparison to how I torture myself after it's been done. It's something I've had to learn to live with since I was old enough to want to protect my older sister, younger brother, and the sisters that came after him. The Army latched onto the potential they saw and they sharpened my sense of responsibility into a fine and deadly point.

Which makes what I did today even more unacceptable. I'm in charge of protecting my men, in _no way_ should _I_ be the one injuring them unless a lesson needed to be taught and remembered. I dishonored myself and let the people closest to me down. That hurts - and will haunt me - more than what I just survived in my other Ranger-life.

Steph's whimper jolted me out of my thoughts and the sensations she's still stirring in me. The sound she made wasn't a pain-filled one. Her arms had come around me at the same time as her little murmur escaped, so I wasn't concerned that I hurt or upset her again.

When I released her lips, she didn't let go of me. If we had been in her apartment, the water would've run ice-cold by now. She had stepped closer to me as her arms closed around me. We ignored my dick, since this embrace isn't about relieving the ache there. The deeper, internal one needs far more attention right now.

Showing an incredible amount of tenderness, she licked a few water droplets off the skin right below my clavicle even though the shower head is still raining down on us.

With her lips pressing into the muscles of my chest, she spoke. "You take a lot of these showers, don't you?"

I'm not entirely sure how much I should say or how much detail I should go into, but then I remembered that this is Stephanie. So I was as honest as I could handle.

"When you're exposed to, and covered in, death on an hourly basis," I tried to explain, "that taint becomes a new part of you. No matter how often you try to get yourself feeling clean again, you will never remove the feel of it from your skin, the various smells associated with death from your mind, or wipe away the black marks from your soul."

"God," she breathed into me, "like it's not enough to have to keep your bearings and body intake over there, for the rest of your life you have to struggle to keep them? I really hope that was at least added to the fine print on your contract when you offered your life in exchange for our freedom. If I'm going to end up suffering and struggling for the rest of my life, I for damn sure want to know ahead of time, not after the fact. I'm still mad at myself for not looking into things - and into your life - when I first met you and learned that you're a _Ranger_ /Ranger. I wasn't going to make the same mistake. The day you left, I began my 'research' and started harassing the guys. I planned to be prepared for any and everything ... and I still ended up needing Tank and the guys again."

"Relax, Babe," I ordered, trying to rub the tension out of her shoulders and back.

"Sorry. I'm supposed to be helping you feel better, not put you immediately back into ' _worry about Stephanie_ ' mode."

"Believe it or not, focusing on your mental state helps regulate mine."

She reached past me and turned off the faucet, instantly making the room silent. She wants to believe me, but she's still worried about causing me more stress. I don't know how I managed homecomings like this one without her. I told myself I was getting through them, but seeing how freeing it is to be able to talk openly about what I'm feeling instead of hiding my emotions or trying to hide _from_ them, absolves me from some of the guilt I brought back with me for the lives I had to take. War isn't pretty no matter how you try to clean up the retelling of it for others.

If someone as good as Stephanie can look at me and see a man who is human almost to a fault, who's just been through hell and is fighting his way out of it, rather than an inhuman monster who belongs in the deepest pit of it, helps silence the screams I still hear. She's seen the worst of me and hasn't judged me, only tried to love me more. If she's willing to confront my demons with me, I should be man enough to let her love me in any and every way she wants to.

She sees my tears as a sign of strength, not a weakness. She refuses to be scared away by my thoughts or mission recounts. And she held onto me tighter when I'd been expecting her to pull away. Courage comes in many forms, and Stephanie possesses her share of them all. I don't know how I got so lucky as to have her after all the shit I've done, but I will never take it - or her - for granted. She absently wrapped a towel around her body before drying mine. It isn't necessary, but I didn't object.

"What happened downstairs doesn't change how I see or feel about you," she said to me, going to her knees to dry my legs as she spoke in a casual tone, hoping I wouldn't tense up or shut down. "I actually love you _more_ for wanting to protect me that much, and wanting to make sure it won't happen again. I'm understanding this more and more by the minute. And I'm so sorry for your sake that you felt you had to once again right someone else's wrong, because I know you're blaming yourself for something that you shouldn't be."

"Nothing should be beyond my control ... _ever_."

"And Batman is back in the building," she teased, standing upright again to do another towel-pass over my chest and arms before squeeze-drying my hair. "And don't worry, I also get that last night and this morning aren't the norm, for you or anyone else. If you weren't hurting and provoked, you would have remained my calm, cool, and collected, guy that you always are. The one who just toys with Morelli instead of being seconds away from annihilating him. I know I sounded scared, but only because I was worried about you ... even though I know, and have been assured, that mornings like this one are rare. Plus, now I know how to handle it if someone does trigger you. Remember that ... _he_ triggered you. The blame should remain solely on him."

I could get used to this kind of care, but I kept that knowledge to myself. She'd wear herself out trying to make my life easier.

"It is extremely rare for things to get that far out of hand for me, but it can happen. That's why I, Tank, and any man in immediate danger, protect ourselves by staying together ..."

"That explains Rangeman perfectly. Every day you guys are there to protect, help, and support, each other even more than you do the city of Trenton."

"It helps when you're surrounded by people who have walked in your boots and have faced similar challenges returning home. Until speaking becomes bearable, we hide out here ... waiting for the worst of the feelings and memories to pass so assholes like Morelli can't start something that we need to finish."

She went to hold out my cargoes so I'd be able to just step into them, but she drew her hands immediately back when she realized what she was doing. "I should ..."

"I can dress myself, Babe. I promise."

"I'm hovering and smothering, aren't I?"

"No.

"Yeah ... I am, but I can't seem to stop."

"You won't hear me ask you to, but I am up and functioning."

" _That_... and I know you prefer me _un_ dressing you, rather than covering all of that up."

"You can uncover me whenever the urge strikes. What's mine is yours," I told her, tugging on my pants and zipping and buttoning them up.

I'd expected to see her smile and blush at my flirting tone, but her expression didn't change and her hands remained tucked into the fold of the towel she'd been about to remove.

Her eyes pinned me so I couldn't do more than breathe. "That goes for your feelings too, Ranger, not just your body," she told me, her words holding a seriousness that had my lungs now freezing. "When you're in pain, so am I ... and I _need_ to fix it for both of us."

"You have," I said, pulling her to me.

"I'm trying."

"Steph, there are going to be things you can't erase, change, or fix, but it's enough that you're willing to stay with me as I work them out myself."

"I'm not happy about not being able to keep everything bad away from you, but I'm here for you regardless. The guys did warn me that even if you were home, you may need a few days before you felt comfortable being around me. I was trying not to get upset about that, but now I understand why you may have felt a precaution was necessary."

"I will never risk you, Babe."

"Even if that means hurting yourself more?"

"Even if," I answered. "Though since we became friends ... and more, seeing you became more important than protecting myself."

She crossed her arms behind my back and hugged me hard before releasing me in order to get redressed.

"Well ... this relationship/eventual marriage-thing, I hope, means you will _always_ come to me just so I can protect you."

"Chances of that are extremely high."

"Okay, I can breathe easier knowing that you can and will ask for help whenever you need it." She started putting her clothes back on as I stepped into my boots. "I told the guys not to leave. I wanted you and them to see that everyone's okay ... that we made it through another crisis together and came out of it stronger than we went into it. Are you okay with that?"

"I owe them more than an apology ..." I began to say.

"Maybe in your mind you do, but I know they'll say the same thing you would. They were doing only what they needed to, because they care about you ... like you would've done for any one of them if they were in trouble."

That's different, I thought to myself. They are my men which means _I'm_ responsible for _their_ care. They shouldn't have to babysit their leader. I earned that title by leading them _out of_ dangerous situations, not dragging them into an extremely personal one.

"Stop beating yourself up," she gently ordered as she watched my face. "Or I'm going to start doing the same thing to myself again. You were coming to me. If I would've stayed at your apartment instead of stopping at mine ..."

"Think about that one, Babe. I didn't have a way of knowing you chose to stay in my building. I would have gone to your apartment regardless, and I would have found Morelli in your lot or worse ... in the hall in front of your door. How do you think that would've turned out?"

Her eyes became real interested in the tile covering the floor. "That thought scared me even more than what I just saw. The jerk probably would've told you that he and I were back together, and that he was there because I invited him, just to piss you off and drive a wedge between us. _Oh, God!_ What if he had told you that and you believed him? Jesus, seeing you in pain and not being able to help has been tough, but if he _had_ managed to come between us ..."

"He wouldn't have. This may be hard for some to believe, but there are a few perks to having PTSD ... for me anyway."

"You must have been hiding them from me then, because having to watch you go through all of this isn't making me feel like your suffering is a positive thing at all."

"I'll admit, a lot of it isn't pleasant for the sufferer or observer, but my heightened senses, being hyper alert at all times, and having overdeveloped protective instincts, have created in me something like a human lie/intentions detector, as another layer of defense between me and the world. My experiences have made me an expert at reading facial expressions and body language, and I can pick up on every tone change when someone's speaking, so I would have known he was lying as soon as his mouth opened. I can also sense what isn't being said, and I excel at figuring out emotions and motives that are lurking below a person's surface. That's why I knew you loved me despite you not saying it. Your body, eyes, and actions, spoke when you couldn't."

"Having super-senses sounds more overwhelming than beneficial. _I_ don't even know what _I'm_ feeling most of the time. I can't imagine having all of that information coming at you with every person you see or talk to."

"My men and I are quiet, but that plays to our advantage. Our silences are another way we gather intel on an individual or situation. We're not purposely being antisocial or anti-conversation, we're just mentally trying to keep ourselves alive. I want you to listen to me here, because this is important."

"What is it?"

"Whenever you begin to tell yourself that what happened is your fault, remember this. I wasn't in any mood to contact the control room, or even Tank, so even if you had been in my apartment, I would've still gone to yours, not knowing your exact location at the time. Morelli would have done exactly what you feared he would, and I would've beaten the shit out of him. Had you not been there to stop me, it wouldn't have stopped at just a beating. _Your_ voice and touch were the _only_ things that got through to me. So you saved him last night, and again this morning. You also saved my men. I don't have the type of connection to anyone like I have with you. My need to _comfort you_ outweighed my need to _kill him_. While I _am_ still ordering myself to stay here instead of hot-wiring Tank's truck so I can eliminate that fucker, I'm here with you right now. That says a lot about how much you mean to me."

"It wasn't easy for Tank to say that he had to let me help you, but that's what you're telling me now, isn't it? You needed me - and only me - to make you feel like you're home?"

"Yes. You don't give yourself enough credit. You're significant in a lot of people's lives, but you're vital to mine."

"For a guy who doesn't tend to talk a lot, you always know the perfect thing to say."

"Again ... it's one of the bonuses to having a brain that is now wired differently. In not wanting to bring attention to yourself, you don't have the urge to fill up every silence with superficial chatter, so you learn to not waste words and only say what needs to be said."

"That explains a lot. You're quiet ninety-five percent of the time, but when you do start to talk, or let a little more Ranger-humor show, your words always knock me on my ass."

"My intentions have always been to tell you the truth, and also how I feel, without any bullshit."

"It's working for you. I've never doubted anything you've said, only questioned why you would waste your time loving someone like me."

"Falling for you was the easiest thing I've ever done. Figuring out how we could be together was where the challenges began."

"It's been pretty easy once we realized that we both deserve to be happy. While you were gone, the guys actually helped push you and I closer together by telling me what to expect when I got to speak to/see you again, what I should do to make being home easier, while sharing stories of the Military Man they know that I'm not as familiar with, which had me loving you in an entirely new way."

"I learned early on that it's beneficial to pay your employees well."

She rolled her eyes, but smiled as she slid an arm around my waist. "Their loyalty, friendship, and help, has _nothing_ to do with _money_ and _everything_ to do with _you_. I asked them to stay because I again owe them a huge thank you for coming through for you ... for us. Are you ready for some company, or do you need another minute or two?" She asked, holding out her hand.

I don't want to face what I've done, but I'll never shirk my duty. Being a man means admitting that I'm sorry, and that I owe them for what they put on the line to help Stephanie and stop me. The men all knew there was a real chance they could die along with Morelli, but they came here anyway. They may have even saved our relationship. Cold-blooded murder could have a woman rethinking wedding plans.

I put my hand in hers. "They deserve my thanks as soon as I can give it. I also want Bones to look at your neck," was my reply.

"I'm fine. It looks worse than it feels," she assured me. "I didn't even realize anything was there until we came in from the beach and I saw myself in the bathroom mirror."

"And then you immediately called Tank," I stated, piecing together the details.

"Yeah."

"Proud of you, Babe. That was a good call."

" _Literally_."

I'm not letting that smile of hers sway me. I will force Bones to check her throat before he leaves, but for now ... I let her take the lead and move us through the upstairs back down to the first floor.

I knew the men would be cleaned and patched up thanks to Bones while Stephanie had been busy putting me back together again. I also knew they'd be in the living room, as far as they could get away from the scene of my crime without being obvious about it. They were trying to spare me one more bloody visual. Each of them, with the exception of Hal, are familiar with this house, they themselves having needed the safety and privacy the property provides over the years, but this is the first time anyone except Tank and Bones have been here specifically for me.

It's embarrassing that reinforcements needed to be called in, but they came running. That they love Stephanie that much, and were willing to risk helping me when I didn't personally request it, is appreciated beyond measure. My company isn't just a security business, my men and I have, with Ella and now Stephanie's guidance, created a family. One that is extremely protective, who will always take care of every member of it.

At the bottom of the stairs, I glanced towards the kitchen even though I already know what I'd see. All the broken furniture had been removed. The kitchen drawers had been put back into their appropriate slots with all their contents tucked safely away inside them. And not only had the coffee maker been put in its exact spot on the counter, someone had started a pot, correctly guessing we'd all need it. What couldn't be rehung, put back, or saved, was discarded. The blood that had been shed was cleaned off the floor and surviving furniture. And while the keys still haven't been returned to the hook, the holder had been secured to the wall again. The room almost appeared as if a fight to the death hadn't occurred, but I can never forget that I caused one.

As I turned my head away from the room I'll never look at the same way again, I focused my eyes on the one containing my men, who once again listened to Stephanie and did what she asked. They would have remained on the grounds until they were sure the threat has passed, but I wanted her to believe that they're here solely because she needed them. My role in this is minor by comparison.

He's likely taped up and in considerable pain, but that Tank didn't leave had me breathing an internal sigh of relief. His ribs may be cracked, but a lung hadn't been punctured or he'd be in a nearby hospital right now instead of standing guard. Lester's arm has a bright white bandage on it, and he has a cut on his lip and another one over his eye, but he's sprawled on one of the leather sofas, sipping a cup of coffee like he's sitting in a fucking café in France on a lazy Sunday morning.

Bobby's hurting, possibly suffering a rib fracture himself, but he still flung shit back at Santos, appearing as normal as he could. Hal has the beginnings of a black eye and a cut across the bridge of his nose, but that didn't faze him as much as being here without a direct invitation from me. He perched on the edge of the wing chair that had been placed in an out-of-the-way corner of the room, reminding me of Steph's mother whenever I insist on escorting her to the Burg so she won't have to endure her family alone. Cal and Tank, both equally bruised, stayed standing, which had me worried that my actions would trigger similar ones in them. Bones was of the same mindset, and he was keeping an eye on every one of his 'patients'.

My gut twisted knowing that _I'm_ the one solely responsible for the destruction of their bodies and my property. I've taken my share of blows and pain helping Tank, as well as countless other Rangers and Rangemen, through their own nightmares - real, recurring, or imagined - but I'll always prefer to be a protector of them over a victim of my own mind.

"You're going quiet again," Steph pointed out, as she paused in our rejoining our team.

"I'm alright."

"Thankfully, I _do_ believe that now."

Walking back down here was incredibly difficult, but she worked her magic. What could have been a humiliating experience for me was made only mildly uncomfortable thanks to her.

"We're back, Guys. Thanks for sticking around. Before anything is said, I'm warning everyone right now that I'm not letting anybody blame themselves for anything."

"Does that include yourself, Stephanie?" Tank asked, knowing her extremely well now.

I should know better than to try to make her feel better instead of just redirecting her attention to me or to someone else in need. She remembered my words too well and found a new angle for taking the heat off me by shouldering it herself.

"Yes and no. Had I told Ranger before he left that I'd be staying at Rangeman until he came home, a confrontation wouldn't have taken place. Or ..."

"Stop it, Babe. If you're giving me a pass for being out of control, I'm not allowing you to blame yourself for any of this, either."

"You went through _hell!_ " She tried to justify. " _Of course_ you're going to be affected by what you just saw and lived through. There's no way you wouldn't come home hurting ... with your mind straddling two separate worlds. You only _told_ me part of your most recent ordeal, and I'm seeing _everything_ differently. With me, I just lost my temper. I could've backed out when I saw someone loitering in my lot. Instead, I let my anger and my big mouth get the better of me ... _again_."

"You were defending your man and standing up for yourself, Steph," Lester told her. "That's commendable, not something to be ashamed of. You should've heard the comments going around the control room after Tank told us how you went all Warrior Woman on that fucker's ass. We'd automatically applaud you for sticking up for The Boss, but defending us - and people like us - got you a literal standing ovation from the monitors to the elevator."

"Of course I'd point out the differences between _real men -_ walking definitions of Heroes in my mind - and a spoiled, _feels-entitled-to-everything_ brat. You could take two thousand of him and cram them all together, and that still wouldn't make him a sixteenth of the man any of you are. You fought hard to become who you are now, and you've turned horrible experiences into a need to protect others and prevent the ugliness you know too well from happening again. He had everything handed to - or fixed for - him, despite what awful or illegal thing he's done. He made it through his life unscathed and now uses his power to make his existence even easier, while condemning people who are truly making a difference for the better. I'm honored that you consider me your friend, and I'm extremely proud to be 'Ranger Manoso's Woman'. We are a family now, not just friends."

"We've always considered you family, Steph," Bobby told her. "Which is why we haul ass every time you call."

"Thank you for that. That's another thing that puts you above other men. Not only do you take care of each other no matter the danger, but your protection and loyalty carries over onto the families and loved ones important to your friends."

"You're not just important to Ranger," Hal added in a quiet voice, "we care about you, too."

"The feeling is entirely mutual. I know Ranger will thank you in his own way, but I want to hug you all for at least an hour just for coming here for him. I'm so glad that by marrying Ranger, I get to adopt all of you as well."

Tank would have noticed Stephanie's finger when he first came into the house, but he didn't comment on it until it was brought up first. The other men didn't say anything, either. They were all respecting our privacy even though this is something they want to celebrate.

"So you gave it to her as soon as you came here?" Tank asked me.

He knew I bought the ring, but not when I'd let Stephanie see it.

"More of less."

"Now that all the "Welcome Home" excitement is out of the way, let's get to the good stuff," Santos said. "You two are really getting hitched?"

"Yes," I repeated, though I'm hoping I'm still telling the truth. "Thanks to all of your actions, I still have a future to plan and enjoy. I'm sorry that my behavior required you to be called, but I am thankful that you came through for Stephanie"

"You don't have to thank us or apologize for anything. You don't know how hard it was for us not to kill the asshole ourselves after we heard what he did. We did do a good job of making him suffer for still being alive. You know we will do anything for both of you. And if you would've seen your woman while you were away, you'd know Steph isn't going anywhere. Your future is very secure. I can't believe she let you move the heart even to her other hand, though," Bobby said to me. "You'd think the thing was your actual organ the way she was protecting it."

"It was the only link I had to Ranger," she was quick to explain. "No way in hell was I going to let anything happen to it or him if I could help it."

"The 'link' you have with him," Tank told her, "can't be seen, but it goes beyond a long-distance phone call, a ring, or a marriage. It's what continues to sustain him. It's also what got him back home and through this."

"I'm pretty sure _you guys_ were the Heroes here," she told the room, once again being a master of deflection.

I don't want to admit it, especially since she hasn't yet said she changed her mind about marrying me, but I owe it to her to give her one last out by reminding her what she's getting into.

"I wasn't exaggerating. I would have killed Morelli, and anyone who tried to stop me, Babe. It's not something I'm proud of, but I refuse to lie to you. If you hadn't reached me, there would be bodies littering the kitchen, not just battered ones lounging around in here. You've been my Hero here."

I really want to know what she was thinking in that moment, because instead of running scared or looking horrified, she smiled and carefully hugged me, not wanting to put pressure on any of my sore spots ... internal or external.

"I guess that means I have to stick _real close_ to you for the rest of our lives just so I can keep an eye on you and be there if you need me. Us working for the same boss makes that pretty convenient. There is more than one way to be a bodyguard. You keep me safe and I promise to do the same for you. We're partners in work, in life, and in this fight. I've heard it said that Rangers leave no man behind, and though I'm not one ... I swear I will never leave mine."

"That's the spirit, Steph," Bones told her with clear approval.

"Shit, Steph ... who needs vows when you're giving your man a promise like that?" Cal said to her.

"I made up my mind months ago about what I want and need in my life, and vows or no vows, PTSD episodes or no triggers at all, the city of Deal or Trenton, won't change it. I'm stubborn like that," she bragged.

"Thank God," I said, with more feeling than I'm comfortable with.

"You say that now, but when you can't get away from me, my overwhelmingly-obnoxious care, or my questions, you'll find yourself cursing me instead of praising me."

"I don't foresee that happening, Babe. _Ever_."

"I hope not, because I'm sticking to ... I mean I'm sticking _with_ you ... for life, even if I annoy the crap out of you for eighty-percent of it."

"You can annoy the shit out of us any time you want," Santos said. "Obviously we're glad The Boss is back, but we're gonna miss keeping you company."

"There won't be anything to miss. Don't forget, you guys owe me some stories. Plus, I still have a lot to learn about all of you, not just Ranger, so I can help, understand, and appreciate, not only _this guy_ ," she said, gently tightening the arm that was around my waist, "but also help and honor all of you."

"If you can convince Ranger to share your time, count me in for story time and telling you whatever you're interested in knowing," Cal said.

"So we can start tomorrow?" She said, looking up at me with the question tugging at her eyebrows.

I'm still not back to a hundred percent, but isolating myself has a less than positive affect at times, so I nodded my consent.

"Okay, so we expect the six of you to come back here tomorrow and have lunch with us. Ummm ... do you think you can bring the lunch along with yourselves?" She asked.

"What are you in the mood for?" Bones asked.

"Whatever I don't have to attempt to heat up, that's also something Ranger won't grumble about or spend an hour picking apart with his fork instead of consuming it."

"Ella packed a few bags of clothes and stuff for both of you. I had Hal put them in the coat closet in the kitchen so you won't be tripping on them," Tank informed us. "The place stays stocked with the essentials, so do you need anything besides lunch and your clothes?"

"As a matter of fact," she answered, " _yes_. I'll text you the details later today."

That she wouldn't come right out and say what she needs, didn't sit well with me. Steph caught the sudden tension in my body and automatically went into soothing mode.

"It's just that I'm not sure the stuff I want can be gathered on such short notice, so I'll do a little computer work and send Tank the details. That way he won't go nuts hunting my list down. It's not a big deal."

My instincts told me otherwise.


	7. Chapter 7

**All familiar characters belong to Janet. The inevitable mistakes are mine alone.**

 **Chapter 7**

 **Steph's POV**

 _Normally_ , I love to gloat about being right about something, since it doesn't happen all that often, but having Bones declare my neck just bruised with a few broken capillaries under the blue/purple marks, without much he can do about them, didn't have me feeling vindicated. The look in Ranger's eyes as he stood close enough for our shirts to touch as he watched me be checked out, had me feeling sick. I couldn't help but hurt for him all over again.

Someone being physically harmed on his watch isn't something he takes lightly. That it was _me_ hurt by _Morelli_ in _any_ way, had his mind hauling ass to the dark side again. He didn't say or do anything to make my stomach automatically knot, but it's like I'm in his head, feeling what he is ... and it's scary as hell. I've always been in awe of him ... how he looks, his intelligence, how confident he is in every area of his life. But _now_ , I can honestly say that how he's able to bring himself back from the brink, time and time again, and the way he can stop himself from using his training to solve _everything_ \- and stop _everyone_ \- is incredible ... and more than a little enviable. I can feel him shaking with anger, but he's refusing to act on it.

"Steph's okay, Ranger," Bones told him, sensing the same internal storm that I felt brewing. "She's safe and here with you. That asshole will have to get through every one of us to even look at her again."

"Juniak and the Chief are in agreement," Tank added, shifting his stance, which made me feel guilty that he's in so much pain and trying hard to hide it.

We're all hurting in some way. Tank's body will likely heal faster than any of our minds. I've gone beyond just hating Joe now. I want to go shoot whoever's the cause of Ranger needing to be called in. But in my gut and in my heart, I already know those who were behind a rescue being needed - and Mike and L.B. needing to be somewhere far from home - probably aren't breathing any more, which no doubt added to why we're all here ... feeling angry and worried instead of celebrating Ranger being home at Rangeman, laughing over pizza in the control room.

"What do you mean? You got Morelli in trouble?" I asked them, when trying to read their faces proved pointless.

I know Ranger - and his men because of him - have a lot of pull, not only in Trenton but all of Jersey and far beyond it, yet I can't believe that after twenty-six years of Morelli getting away with everything involving me, his ass may have just gotten handed to him thanks to my guys. He's always acted like he's above reproach and above the law, so that he may have just learned what consequences are _is_ really a _huge_ surprise ... and an even bigger deal. I still can't believe it could be true.

"You're damn right he's in trouble," Tank answered. "Not only that, I got him fired. He put his hands on you and tried to force you to stay with him, which last time I checked counts as kidnapping. A huge no-no for a cop. Ranger is also a highly-respected member of the community, along with being a decorated Hero everybody knows you don't fuck with."

"Given the two men that we're talking about here, and what the public will say if we share our _concerns_ with the reporter or two we're friendly with," Bobby picked up, "tossing Morelli out on his ass will save the department some face and a dozen headaches. Hanging onto him will turn into a PR nightmare for them. If Ranger had snapped and decided to kill Morelli for restraining and hurting you, and a bystander rushed to help the fucker, they would have suffered the same fate. Situations like this one is why we're always there for each other, Steph, and why this house exists. We have to protect ourselves from ourselves, the public, and those who know exactly which trigger to pull when they have an ax to grind. One wrong word or move and we or them die."

"Juniak would want to be Ranger if body-swapping was possible," I pointed out, lacing my fingers through Ranger's, holding on tightly to _my Ranger_. I don't want to be him _exactly_ , I just want to be with him for the rest of my life. "Joe can't compete with that kind of hero worship, never mind adding in a public bashing from the general public. I'm surprised, though, that Morelli wasn't just given paid leave for a week or two and then quietly get reinstated."

"We didn't leave that as an option," Lester added. "Either they removed him from the force or we'd remove him permanently from the face of the earth, and then we'd go after their jobs one by one. No one hurts you or endangers The Boss. We already did a good job of obliterating Morelli's face when we arrived on-scene to 'help'. No doubt he's going to have a much better scar than that pathetic little eyebrow split. I've had paper cuts bigger that what caused that."

Ranger hadn't contributed much to our conversation, but no one expected him to. He only spoke when he had something to say. Once we came back downstairs, he had plastered himself to my back in what I mentally started calling his 'protective tick-mode', but an extremely sexy tick. It's clear I won't be left unguarded even when we're among friends. Since I don't want to be away from him ever again, I welcomed the feel of a Ranger-shaped outline against - and shadowing me - keeping me safe and warm, while also making me feel incredibly loved.

"This isn't just Morelli acting like a cocky asshole again, Steph. This is serious," Tank continued. "If Ranger isn't who he is, and you weren't there to redirect him, he could've not only killed Morelli, but anybody who stupidly got too close to them. Morelli just proved he's a safety risk. Ranger could control himself up to a point, which is why he only bound the fucker's wrists and ankles, instead of just shooting him in the head and moving on. But even that could've been avoided altogether if Morelli would've backed off the second he saw your man approaching."

'My man' curled his free arm around my waist and waded into the conversation. "I'm sorry, Babe ..."

I moved my head from where it was leaning back against his shoulder and I looked up into his dark eyes. "You have _nothing_ to be sorry for. In a way, I'm glad certain things turned out like they did. Not only have I gotten to keep you all to myself for a few days, our time here has clarified a few things ... so don't you feel sorry about anything. I'm exactly where I want to be, with the person I want to be with. Honestly ... I'm where I've been dreaming of being since you left."

I didn't mean anything more than what I said, but I must've inadvertently said something that was a signal of some kind for the guys to leave us alone again.

"We'll head out," Tank said to us. "If either of you need anything ..."

"Just let you know," I finished for him. "We know. And thank you ... thanks _all of you_."

"We're here for both of you," Lester said. "Day or night, good or bad."

"There won't be a need beyond today," Ranger promised us.

I really want to believe him, but I caught Tank's eye and nodded in a way I hoped Ranger wouldn't notice. I feel like I can handle things here alone with Batman, but I would call any one of these guys, starting with Tank, in a heartbeat if I thought Ranger needed something I couldn't get or give him.

I wanted to hug each of them for coming, but I wasn't sure me being touched ... even in a platonic and friendly way, would go over well with The Boss, so I tried my best to convey my appreciation and gratitude in a brief wrist squeeze when Ranger offered his hand to each of them to shake.

"You want us to call before heading over tomorrow?" Cal asked us.

"Yeah," I said automatically, having Ranger's back in this. "I want to make sure I have someplace set for lunch. You guys have done enough as it is, you should at least get a semi-civilized place to sit down, relax, and eat."

"We can eat out of styrofoam with plastic forks on the beach, Steph," Bones told me, "and that would be five-star accommodations compared to places and locations we've eaten in the past."

"I get that, but we all deserve better," I told them, hoping I'll be able to provide it.

It took a grand total of four seconds after the guys filed out before Ranger became more Ranger-like ... suspicious of my comment and ready to get answers.

"What did you want Tank to get? And why didn't you tell me you needed something if it's important? I know I haven't exactly been myself," he admitted, "but I'm still the man who will do anything for you and provide anything you need."

"I know you are. I didn't say anything because it's something I just decided when I saw you scan the kitchen as we came down the stairs. I thought I'd surprise you tomorrow, but now I'm seeing that a surprise isn't what you need right now ... a promise from me is."

"You've already promised to marry me, Babe, that's all I need. Unless you've changed ..."

"I _HAVE NOT_ changed my mind on anything, except for telling you my plan instead of just springing it on you. Not only did I agree to marry you, I want to actually do it tomorrow when the guys come back for lunch. I was going to find the rings and a Justice of the Peace online and ask Tank to pick up everything and anybody we need, plus sneak a marriage license through without you knowing or us having to wait."

He went still as he stared at me and I felt terrified again. My emotions have been as all over the place as his were ... _still are_. I want him to know that I'm here for him like Lester sorta said ... in good times and bad ... especially the bad when he needs me the most.

"I saw the way you were looking at the kitchen. You were reliving what took place in it," I said in the middle of a fresh case of nerves. "I could tell you were upset. You weren't seeing the room, you saw the aftermath of what went on inside it. I want to give you a good memory to replace that one. I thought the two of us getting married in the same spot, with the six men who helped us acting as witnesses as well as best men, would help you picture my face as I become your wife, instead of automatically seeing the ones in pain. Maybe then when you walk into your kitchen, you can tell yourself it's the place where _our life_ together began, not where one could've ended."

He stayed silent for a nerve-shredding two minutes. Luckily, he spoke before I completely lost it.

"I don't know what to say," he finally said.

"That's not a problem. The only thing I want you to say is ' _Yes_ ' to the idea, followed by the words ... ' _We can spend the afternoon lounging in bed looking at rings'_. If we play this right, only Tank could know ... or _no one._ We can keep it a total secret and make it a memorable lunch for all involved _if_ you don't mind delivery guys dropping stuff off at our door unannounced."

"We can tell Tank what to get and why," he told me.

I know he hated admitting that he isn't a hundred percent sure how he'd react to strangers approaching the house ... or even his men showing up at our door, but he'd never purposely endanger anyone even if it meant his pride took a hit. I see this differently, though. That he's worried about his people, and the general public as a whole, had me melting on the inside. He's trained to kill, but preserving life is just as important to him.

"Alright," I assured him. "It is kind of fitting, since Tank was there for me while you were away, has helped us when you got back, and he's been supportive of us from the beginning. I have some money saved, and given you trained him and he's your go-to guy, I know he won't have any problems getting what we need. He's not you, but he's not too shabby at getting the impossible done."

"I have a ..."

I stopped him. " _No_. _Rangeman,_ and you specifically, are _NOT_ footing the bill for your ring from me. _I'm_ doing that. I want you, want to marry you, and want _my ring_ on your finger. I know you have a bottomless pit of funds, but this is really important to me. I want you to have a piece of me ... physically, emotionally, and financially, like you've given me ... with your tags first and then this engagement ring when you got back. This isn't something I'm willing to negotiate on. You deserve as much - if not more - consideration as you've always given me."

"Calm down, Babe. It was only an offer. I don't want you to bankrupt yourself for me."

"I won't, but I'd do that and more if I had to." I curled my arms around him and plastered myself to the front of his body. "It's been _weeks_ since I've heard you tell me to calm down. I never thought I'd miss hearing those words. Usually, they piss me off, but today they make me want to smile."

"It's been _too long_ for a lot of things," he admitted after a slight pause, as he hugged me back.

"The good news is ... you're home, and now we get to make up for all those weeks apart. Unless you want to try for a nap before we delve into wedding plans?"

"I'm alright."

He sounds better than he has since we got here, but he still has a ways to go before he's back to ' _alright_ '. The smudges under his eyes are darker, his face seemed more 'chiseled', and his body is leaning heavily into mine. I'm not sure who is holding who up at this point, but I do know we're each helping the other here.

"Okay, so I'll grab us some coffee and then we can go back upstairs," I said, reluctantly releasing him. "This could take awhile and I want to be comfortable."

I was actually hoping 'ring shopping' would bore him enough that if we were already in bed, he'd finally fall asleep five minutes into it. I really should know better. The guys have said that Ranger's body is a machine and now I get that they were telling me the truth, not joking in the slightest. He's exhausted physically, but his mind remained alert and focused.

He has apologized for being 'out of control', but he really wasn't. His brain and body had continued to work as one all along, just set on a different channel. He had a job to do ... out there, with Morelli in my parking lot, and now here, and he planned to do it. That's the same approach he took to help me locate the things I felt we required in order to get married. He desperately needs rest, but his work isn't done yet, so he can't ... or maybe he just _won't_ relax, fearing what he'll see when his eyes close again. Wanting to kill Morelli gave him a purpose that momentarily took him away from the memories. I suppose helping me give myself to him, gave him the same kind of mental relief and purpose.

He put two mugs of coffee down on the nightstand on his side of the bed, and he waited until I took off my shoes and climbed back onto the bed with the laptop I stole from downstairs. He did the same once I was settled, though his boots stayed on. I scooted closer to him and sighed when his arm came around me as we sat up against the pillows. Only then did I realize I have no idea what to start with.

Like always, Ranger figured out my issue and resolved it. "I know of a few J.P.s between Trenton and here," he told me. "I'll get a name and number to pass onto Tank while you find the ring you want."

"My ring _for you_ or my ring _from_ you?" I asked, trying out a little teasing.

"I would say both if you'd like something specific."

Here lies another problem. "I have a bunch of ideas in my head and I don't want to chose the wrong one. This is a pivotal point in our lives, and especially in our relationship, and I want our rings to show that and be something special, not just any 'ol thing you'll find inside a jewelry store at every mall."

"It's our commitment to each other, Babe, that's important. Everything else is secondary."

"I know, but with my heart ring/tag combo and your dog tags, we've set the bar pretty high on sentimental jewelry. I'd like to add some part of your tags to my ring choice," I shared, not at all embarrassed to be reaching for them now and hold onto them like the lifeline they've been for me while he'd been gone, "but I'm not willing to change them in any way."

They got me through a lot of fear, lonely nights, and those mind-numbingly long days that I literally had to talk myself through, so changing them isn't happening.

"If you're willing to be a bit flexible in the symbolism, I'm sure we can find something that will make you happy."

I bumped his body gently with my shoulder. "I already found what makes me happy ... and I can't believe he's sitting in bed with me discussing wedding rings ... _our_ wedding rings. Maybe you aren't actually home yet and I'm having a weird out-of-body dream after having too much wine while missing you so much."

I almost cried when I saw a hint of his familiar grin.

"The past twenty-four hours should be enough proof that I'm here and very much real," he told me.

"Yeah, but some things - and _people_ \- are too good to be true ... so you have to continue to question them."

"Only you, Babe."

"Only me _what_?"

"Would consider me, or any of the shit I bring home with me, _good_."

"You like me, don't you?"

He kissed the top of my head. "Correction ... I love you."

"You do. And I'm a nightmaric-train wreck, yet you were still coming _to me_. I attract disasters, you survive and stop them. _You_ should be questioning why you love _me_ , not waste time trying to convince me that you're not the guy for me. You are the _only_ man for me, which is why I'm calmly discussing marrying you instead of being in the bathroom right now ... throwing up at just the subject being brought up."

"Not only was I coming to - for - you, I have survived because of you."

"I've only been in your life a few years ..." I started to point out.

"But you quickly became the reason I live it."

I could feel my face flush. I still have trouble believing that someone with his reputation, a friggin' Army Ranger for Chrissake, can need _me_. It still blows my mind. He can endure and survive multiple wars and missions, but can't readjust to life back here in Jersey without me. Well, I know he _could_ , but I'm glad he knows he doesn't have to.

"As Cal said, who needs vows when things like that are said," I told him, too touched for any other words.

He didn't say anything, just tightened his arm and nodded towards the laptop. I took the hint and in two searches found exactly what I wanted for him. In my mind, it had to be made from titanium because it's a metal that's stronger than steel, which works for me because my Batman's far stronger than the Man of Steel. The unique detail that had me immediately picking this men's ring out of the hundred other ones I skimmed, was the recessed bead design running through the middle of the ring that to me looked like the chain holding his tags together securely around my neck.

"I finished my homework," I said to Ranger, after I completed my purchase that included a hefty ' _I_ _want it yesterday_ ' charge. "Now you get computer time."

"Do you want input into which ring I choose for you?"

I thought about that while staring at my left and right ring fingers ... the heart on one and the diamond on the other. I wasn't looking at the huge price and quality difference between the two, but at how we each chose to express our commitment to the other.

"I don't care about the size of the diamond, where you got it, or how much it cost," I told him. "What makes it special in my mind is that you thought of me when you chose it. I'd be happy with anything you give me, even if it's a plastic Wonder Woman ring from a gumball machine outside Walmart."

I felt his eyes on me and I tilted my head to the side to meet them. "I can do one better than a plastic kid's toy, Steph."

"I know. I'm just pointing out that you don't have to. _You_ are what I want out of this particular deal, a heavily-insured ring finger isn't."

"Duly noted," he said, and then chose to completely ignore what I said and the sentiment behind my words.

He found an even sparklier ring than the one that made us engaged. Technically, it _is_ a wedding band, but it's actually two thin diamond-lined rings interlocked to become one, sorta like the two of us whenever we're together.

Ranger caught the look on my face. "You said you'd be happy with whatever I chose. You can't take it back now."

I really wanted to stick my tongue out at him, but I was too happy and relieved about him being in a slightly playful mood. So I purposely steered my eyes away from the price when he 'checked out', making his decision final.

He'd accessed some secret file on his cell and retrieved the name of the Justice of the Peace he had in mind. He was then ready to put our plan into action by calling Tank to do the running around for us. I know Tank's ribs are hurting, but his feelings would take a bigger hit if we ask someone else to do this for us.

"I still need to talk to him," I told Ranger, before he could get Tank on the line. "I want something that's in your closet."

The aqua-colored dress is something I bought while Ranger was away after Mary Lou insisted I needed to do something besides stare at the clock or my phone, waiting to hear that he's okay. I fully intended to wear it for him when he finally made it back home. In the store, I avoided the black or red dresses I'd normally gravitate towards, and I purposely picked something bright. Obviously, I couldn't know for sure, but I figured Ranger had been stuck looking at neutral tones for far too long, either at his uniform or his surroundings, given the areas of the world I overheard the guys speculating he'd be needed right now. I went to the mall with my own mission to find something that would be the exact opposite of everything he'd been exposed to while he was away from me.

My mini-dress is made from a flimsy material that flowed around my body whenever I moved, which is as far from any of his uniforms as an article of clothing could be. It's sleeveless, short, and had a halter-style top with ties at the neck to turn into a floppy bow. I was shooting for an ultra 'girly' look, with the material, color, and bow, again to offset what he'd see on a battlefield or inside a hellhole. I didn't know it at the time I bought it, that the decorative collar would be perfect for covering up the bruises across my neck while keeping Ranger's ID tucked close to my body where they've stayed and will continue to stay. It isn't a typical wedding dress or wedding color, but that just makes it even more perfect for tomorrow's ceremony, since Ranger and I aren't typical _anything_.

"Alright," Ranger told me. "I'll let you call Tank. You can tell him what's going on and what you need from him or from my apartment."

I didn't want him to be upset, not knowing what I'm after so I quickly filled him in. I want him to feel as in command of things and 'in the know' as he felt before he left Trenton.

"Mary Lou forced me to go with her to Quaker Bridge," I began, leaving out the part about her being concerned at how depressed and worried I was and how much I missed being with him. "I needed something to prove to myself that you'd be home soon, so I found a dress to wear for our first date after you got back. Turns out, it's going to be my wedding dress. You didn't even know about this, yet you still managed to make this a date that definitely tops any you could've meticulously planned to take me on. I shouldn't tell you this, because it sounds stupid even to me, but I hung that dress in your closet, tucked in-between your corporate Rangeman clothes."

He was silent for a few beats before speaking. "It doesn't sound stupid at all, Steph."

" _Pathetic?_ "

"No ... more like _lovingly optimistic_."

"I _knew_ I'd see you again. I wasn't allowing myself any other kind of thoughts. I'm not kidding ... the Army should be lucky they sent you back to me or I would've gone looking for you after kicking their asses for calling you in the first place. I have plans for you and your body that don't involve the Army hijacking it."

"Two men and two of mine could've died if _I_ wasn't the one they called in, Babe."

I know what he's saying. His job is to save and protect people no matter the location. I'm okay with that ... most days. It's the distance from me I have a major problem with.

"Believe me, I get that," I assured him. "That's why tried to remain positive and told myself I can be patient for you ... because I _would_ get you back again. I was so good, I didn't even start placing calls expressing my 'appreciation' for the crappy and extremely unhelpful messages the military give to those of us back home. Since you have some pull, how about working on personalizing those on your off days? You military guys don't need to be 'humanized', but those messages sure as hell do."

I got head-kiss for that one. "I'll see what I can do."

I sighed. "Thank you. Now let's see what _Tank_ can do. He won't admit it, but he found it - or me - amusing when I told him I have his number under the header Panic Button."

After hearing that, Ranger let me have the pleasure of hitting my 'panic button' for something good instead of an emergency.

"What's wrong?" Tank said as a greeting.

"Nothing. In fact ... something is very right," I told him. "You know how I had a list of things I was going to ask you for?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it starts in Ranger's closet. I need an outfit that's in there. You know what nude-colored, d'Orsay pumps look like, don't you?"

"Should I?"

"You men certainly have an opinion on what shoes are sexy, but you don't know a thing about them, or how important the right ones are. How about we spare each other a headache and I'll just hang on the line while you go track down Ella? Clearly, my reinforcements need reinforcements here."

He mumbled something, but I could only make out the tone, not the actual words so I probably don't want to know what he said.

"This is fun," I told Ranger, as I waited to hear Ella's voice.

"I doubt Tank will agree with you," I was told by Ranger.

"He'll forgive me when we tell him why I'm being so picky about the shoes."

 _I hope_ he'll forgive me. I don't want to lose my 'friend status' with any of my guys.

" _Stephanie?_ " Ella said a second later. "What can I help you with?"

"Tank's squeamish about digging around my clothes in Ranger's closet and I can't be sure he'll know what to look for if he does attempt it. I was hoping you could grab the short aqua dress that's in the left side of Ranger's closet, and maybe also pull out the nude heels that are still in their box towards the back of the right side of the closet. You might have to wade through my sneakers to get to them. Sorry about this ..."

"Don't you worry. You just take care of Ranger and we'll handle everything here. Is there anything else you would like? You know we're taking excellent care of Rex, so you should not concern yourself there."

I did a mental walk-through of what I usually do before I know I'm going out with Ranger and I cross-referenced that with what she already packed for me and sent over with the guys.

"I wasn't worried about Rex, except that after you all have been taking turns spoiling him, he won't be happy to see me home again. As far as stuff I need right now, I think I'm all set. You did a surprisingly good job of knowing exactly what I'd need. Thank you."

"Thank yous aren't necessary. I have loved having you in the building."

"Funny you should say that," I began. "Is Tank nearby?"

"He's standing beside me here in the elevator."

"Oh good. Ranger and I want to tell you both something, but we'd like it to be kept between the two of you for the moment. So if you could get him to lean down and listen in, we'd appreciate it."

I wound my fingers through Ranger's as I listened to her relay my request to Tank.

"Should I be concerned?" Tank asked.

"Depends if you're like Ella and enjoy having me in the building."

"It's been interesting," he told me.

"I've been _interesting_ to have around _?_ " I repeated, looking to Ranger to translate.

"You wouldn't have his number in your phone if he didn't like you, Steph," Ranger assured me. "To expand on that, he wouldn't answer any of the calls. As you just saw, he picks up on the first ring with you."

" _Hah!_ " I said into my cell. "Ranger says you love me, so you _should_ be happy about this. The dress, shoes, and the rest of the list that I'll get to in a minute is for lunch tomorrow. Ranger and I are going to get married before we eat."

I could feel their surprise coming through the line.

"Oh my goodness," Ella said, recovering faster than Tank. "What a surprise! And _how exciting!_ I'm so happy for you both."

"We're pretty happy and excited, too. Well, I am. Ranger's hard to read."

" _Babe_."

"Okay, his tone suggests he's just as happy about this. I'm choosing to believe that anyway."

"You're serious?" Tank asked.

"Yep. I know it's a shocker, but like I told Ranger ... I think this is what we both need right now. And we'd love to have our 'Crisis Management' team with us. Or would you all be our 'First Responders'? Anyway ... we want everyone who was here yesterday to join us. Plus you and Louis, Ella if you can."

"Are you sure _now's_ the right time to do something this big?" Tank wanted to know, from Ranger I'm guessing since he knew Ranger would be listening in, so I waited for him to answer.

"Yes," Ranger did answer. "It's past time. Salamence Gregory owes me. Once you get our clothes from the apartment ... there should be a black suit still in its bag near to where Steph's dress is hanging, you can call Sal and see if he's free for 'lunch'. If he's not _, make him_ free."

Tank's relief was as present as mine is. Rangeman's Boss is getting closer and closer to the surface.

"I'm on it," Tank replied, after what I'm betting was a silent 'thank you' ... like the one I'd given to whatever God was passing by.

"One more thing," I butted in. "We need rings." I gave Ranger a smile because I could tell that bit of news was way more distressing to Tank than hunting down my FMPs in Ranger's closet. "Don't worry, we already found what we want. We just need you to circle the city and pick them up when they're ready. We already paid for them and everything, so you're really just playing delivery guy."

"I could've covered them for you," he offered.

"For the love of God," I not-so-calmly whispered. " _I'm_ paying for Ranger's ring. I'd sell an organ to do it, but I don't have to since Rangeman pays its employees well. And until very recently, I wasn't in the mood for shopping or snacks, so for the first time in my life, I'm mostly okay financially. Everyone can stop worrying and let me buy my guy his freakin' wedding ring without offering to fit the bill. I appreciate it, but it's not necessary."

"You gonna buy _your_ band, too?" Tank asked me, not letting the subject die without a parting shot.

"Apparently Ranger's feelings on that rival mine, despite this impromptu ceremony being my idea."

"And what a wonderful idea it is," Ella added. "Meal times are a bit hectic here, if Louis and I can't make the ceremony, we will be stopping by for a few minutes soon after with the cake ... if that's alright?"

I looked to Ranger again. He paused, but then nodded. "It's more than alright," I told her. "Since I keep asking you if you'll adopt me, the two of you could act as my RangeMom and Dad during our _I dos_ or at the 'reception'."

"We would be honored, Stephanie," she told me.

"Anything else?" Tank asked.

"Wedding wear, rings, guy to marry us, our best man Tank attending, surrogate parents supporting us, and cake ... I say that covers it ... aside from the paperwork. I'm not letting anyone take back our marriage after the fact. I know a few people who will be doing some digging to see if we're legal."

"Salamence will handle it and will make sure we are very much legal," Ranger told me.

"Okay then, we're all set. Thank you both for doing this for us."

"There's no one else we _would_ do it for," Tank said before ending the call.

"I don't know what the heck I was so worried about when it comes to getting married," I admitted to Ranger. "This wedding stuff is a breeze. It isn't scary at all."

"Once you find yourself facing real fear, you laugh at what once terrified you."

He _would_ know that. His dreams terrify me and I'm not even the one having them.

"It also helps to have other people do all the work," I told Ranger, so neither of us will dwell on the scary stuff still lurking behind every comment or action.

"Ella's in her element. Tank, not so much."

"I love and appreciate the guy, so I'm not going to be amused by that."

"Nice try, Babe. Your smile is giving you away."

"My smile is because I'm happy ... no other reason. I swear. See ... my fingers aren't even crossed."

If he doesn't believe me, he isn't willing to question it.

I _am_ happy. Ranger came home to me. Everything else is just a thick drizzle of warm Dulce de Leche on a generous slice of his mom's Cake de Ron.

As I'd expected, Ranger wasn't sleepy even with him running on empty , added to all our afternoon decision-making, and the changes in our lives about to take place. And I was scared to fall asleep and leave him all alone, wide awake and totally alert with far too much on his mind. So we worked on what we wanted to say in place of standard vows, until Tank called with a heads-up that he was about to leave the gas station near the Deal line and to expect him in four minutes. I hated that he had to warn us he'd be visiting, all the while loving him even more for doing it.

He and Ella worked their combined magic and he delivered my dress, Ranger's wedding wear, plus some champagne and homemade Ella food to keep us nourished and celebrated while we were out of her sight. We got a brief smile from Tank for including him in this, and he passed along a ' _I'll be there'_ from Sal the J.P. I know Ranger and his people can perform immediate miracles, but this one did have me thankful, impressed, and slightly stunned. This morning, I'd been fighting to keep my guy and my friends alive, tonight I'm excited about planning a celebration that includes all of them.

The good feelings lasted up until bedtime. I've already begun to dread the thought of going to sleep, not knowing what fresh hell or misery is awaiting Ranger when the sky goes dark, the house gets eerily quiet, and he attempts to close his eyes. The foreboding feeling I had only intensified when I went to the bathroom to get ready for what I hoped would be an exhaustion-fueled sleep for him. I heard Ranger back by the bathroom door a few seconds after I had unthinkingly closed it.

I can't take him being tormented in any way, so I immediately opened the door and asked him for help to find the moisturizer that's in one of the bags Ella had packed for me. I wanted to give him something to do for a distraction, hopefully without him knowing that I'm worried about him again. It's ironic that I told my mom and Morelli a bunch of times that I want my freedom to justify not getting married again or living with the jerk, yet here I am living in isolation, with no freedom, and very little privacy, as we get each other through this readjustment period, and I've honestly never felt so free.

Free enough to want to marry Ranger with zero hesitation. Even if this is how the rest of our lives are going to be lived, I'm signing on the dotted line. He isn't going to have to do any of this alone anymore. I figured out recently that my wings had felt clipped and my life was in limbo, because my freedom and my purpose are tied to one person. _Ranger_. Now that I'm with him, I feel like I can do _anything_. He's given me a potent combination of unflinching support while providing a worldwide safety net should I ever need one. He _knows_ I can fly, but he'll be right there to catch me if I do happen to crash and burn.

All of those thoughts were going around in my head, all while I was getting increasingly concerned about Ranger by the time we got into bed. I know I feel good, having him curled around me, but after he dozed off ... I lost him again. Eight minutes after his eyes stayed shut for longer than thirty seconds, he was jackknifing into a sitting position with his arm stretched out to push me to safety behind him, the gun that never left his side was tracking another invisible enemy or trying to protect me or his men from one.

"It's okay, Ranger," I said quietly into the room before attempting to comfort him. "We're sitting in bed in your house in Deal. Nothing's changed since we went to sleep. There's no one but the two of us here."

I don't know how many times I'll have to remind him that he's home now and is as safe as it's possible for him to ever feel again. But whether it's for a week or a decade, I'll do it. I'll pretty much do anything for him at this point. He was barely old enough to be considered a man, yet he was man enough to decide he would sacrifice himself and his life for his country and people like me living in it. So as a mostly-grown woman, I'm willing to try to be as selfless as he was and not complain about any sacrifices I may have to make for that man I described who I can't believe loves and trusts me this much.

Ranger didn't respond to me, yet I know he's aware I'm beside him, so I felt it was safe to move closer to him. Again, he tensed when I reached out to him, but he didn't shake me off or shoot out of bed and head for the shower again. All good signs I thought as I scooted forward on the bed and wrapped my arms around him.

"I'm so sorry this is happening to you," I whispered into the bare skin over his shoulder blade. "I can't undo what you've seen or had to do, but I am here to help you see that you survived and that you deserved to."

I had no motives beyond rubbing the tension out of his shoulders while trying to use up some time from what I now know is going to be a long night. But a few careful squeezes of my hands and fingers to relax his muscles, with my breasts pressing into the solid wall of his back as I stretched out my legs in front of me on either side of him to get closer, changed the direction of our thinking and my motivation for touching him.

I'm not trying to relax him anymore. Now, I _prefer_ him to be completely alert and fully engaged ... as long as _I'm_ what he's now trying to figure out how to survive. I have no idea how he can shift from a war flashback straight into kiss-induced heaven, but lucky me gets to experience again that leap from nightmare into one hell of a reality. His mouth was hard at first, but he gentled the kiss almost immediately, as if worried he'd frighten me and I'd pull away. I soon found out that his body, though, remained hard from the chin down as he turned and pressed me into the mattress.

I have no problems starting our honeymoon a night early, so I wrapped my arms and legs around him, matching every bit of his intensity. My/his t-shirt was peeled off me and quickly replaced with his chest, hips, and strongly-muscled legs. His hands dove into my curls as he continued to kiss me. I like to think I'm helping him remember that life can actually be very good at times, and I also hope to remind him of how much I love him and have missed him.

The way he kissed, touched, and held onto, me almost had me thankful that he couldn't sleep going on two days now. Knowing _why_ he couldn't, had me feeling ashamed of myself. So in apology, I loved him harder ... trying to kiss away the flashbacks, stroke away the pain with my hands, and hold him tight enough so that anything bad that wants at him had to go through me first. I was convinced I'm invincible as he slid inside me, making us both moan, but definitely not in pain. Far from it. My senses were on overload just from the heat, taste, and scent, of him. My body feels better than any should, my brain felt rebooted, and my heart and lungs were bordering on bursting, just before he growled out my name as I shouted his with a ton of feeling propelling it out of me.

He collapsed onto me and my arms caught and held him like a snare trap he couldn't - and doesn't want to - free himself from. I just held him there in the dark for a full five minutes before I started running my fingers through his now damp hair. I tried to lull him to sleep with a soothing touch and plenty of prayers that his mind would allow him a few hours of peace. It worked for longer than anything has so far, and I was able to feel him relax a little for the first time since he's been home.

He didn't sleep long, likely a grand total of an hour and a half if I add our broken-up night together, but at least the images and memories were pushed to the back of his mind. We had plenty to do to keep us busy and our thoughts out of trouble before the guys get here. Ranger and I shared a shower so he wouldn't have to worry about me where he couldn't see me. I let my hair dry on its own as we took a long morning walk along the beach. We had an Ella-provided, via Tank drop-off last night, breakfast that turned out to be a baked Denver omelet casserole. Ella spoils her people even when they aren't at Rangeman.

When our breakfast dishes were done, Ranger let me help him move the coffee table and all side tables together in the living room so we can have a place to eat, since the kitchen table was a casualty in yesterday's battle. Apparently this being a 'guy house', a formal dining room - which would have a backup table - wasn't considered a necessity. I did what I could with the dishes and utensils here to make the room feel a bit more special. While we were walking this morning, I'd even cut some of the dune grass growing by the water and arranged it a few glasses in lieu of flowers, and added in the pillar candles Ella sent with her food. Rangeman's Fairy Godmother believes _every_ meal is special and should _look_ as well as _taste_ great.

When I was satisfied with my/our work, I got to work on myself. I curbed my curls into something up off my neck, and I took extra time applying my makeup. I made my lips pinker, carefully applied eyeshadow, liner, and mascara, so my eyes would appear bigger, bluer, and my lashes even fuller. I blushed my cheeks to a post Ranger-kiss glow, so he'd be reminded of the last time my face was flushed in his presence, leaving him distracted so he wouldn't rethink the wisdom of marrying me. I got into my dress and tucked Ranger's tags into the neckline before I tied the bow in a way that would completely cover anything upsetting to Ranger or any of the guys. I stepped into my heels, glanced at my reflection one last time, and then did an about-face to face Ranger who didn't stray too far from me as he got ready himself.

He always looks incredible, but he's even better looking today because he appeared a bit more rested than he had the last time we had company here. Somehow, he can make head-to-toe black, complete with dark hair and eyes, look more _sexy_ than _somber_. He didn't do anything beyond shower and he's runway-ready. He smells as good as he looks, and if we weren't going to be getting married within the hour, I'd be happy just to be left alone with him, telling myself he's safe, home, and finally mine, while letting his body prove it.

Things happened pretty quickly after he took my hand and we headed downstairs. Cal, Hal, Bones, Bobby, and Lester, showed up separately, but all at the time they told us they would be pulling up. They clearly agree with me that surprises aren't a real good idea right now. Tank arrived only after he knew our guys would be here just to keep Ranger from having to endure extra minutes of having a relative stranger in his home. A house containing Ranger, Tank, and five other Rangeguys, probably made it the safest place on the planet, but even if the Justice of the Peace were a closet terrorist, and with all of us knowing he'd be killed seven times over before he even _thought_ about attacking, Ranger was still visibly uneasy.

I kept my arms around him and made sure to leave space between the two of us and everyone else. I don't want 'our wedding day' to be a repeat performance of what happened yesterday. Though I really didn't have to worry about anyone making any kind of threatening move, because _no one moved_ once they came inside and got a look at Ranger and I. Which I'll admit ... I understand. We did appear like a couple who should be made smaller and placed on the top of a Vegas wedding cake. The confusion only tripled when I'd asked Cal to let in Tank who was accompanied by an older man with gray hair, close-trimmed gray beard, who had kind eyes that were watchful behind a pair of thin-framed silver glasses.

But my guys don't base their opinions on appearances alone. Someone they don't know, being someplace no one is supposed to know about, at a time they feel Ranger needs added protection, had testosterone and adrenaline vying for dominance despite the Justice of the Peace looking like a younger, thinner, and much cooler, Santa Claus.

"Stand down, Guys," I purposely said to see if I could get even a hint of a smile out of my soon-to-be-hubby. Ranger's lips are still perfect, but they didn't budge. "Ranger and I asked Tank to bring a plus-one. He just happens to be a J.P. instead of a date. _Surprise_! You all are being cordially invited to our wedding ... which is taking place right now and right here in the kitchen. Well ... I am waiting until you all close your mouths first. Looking like someone just shot a couple hundred volts through you is going to ruin our 'Husband And Wife' pics."

"You're shittin' us?" Bobby said. "You're not really serious?"

"She'd better be serious. It'd be cruel to fuck with us that way," Lester added.

"Do you honestly think we'd get all dressed up like this just for lunch?" I asked, enjoying myself a little too much. Our wedding day is going to be a fun one despite the circumstances surrounding it. "We actually have a choice of food now, since Ella is Ella, but I'm thinking what you brought, which smells like Indian food to me, will add an international flair to our event. In case you're still shocked, the stuff I was going to ask Tank to get were the clothes we're wearing now ..."

"And the man, plus the rings, to make this official," Tank finished, handing two small boxes to Ranger. "I wanted to get them here last night when I dropped off your clothes, but the engravings you wanted took extra time."

"That's my fault," I admitted. "I wanted ten different things and was trying to combine them all onto one special piece of metal. I hope you guys aren't too hungry. I thought we could have a small 'reception' with what you brought for lunch after we tie the knot."

"Shit, who's thinking 'bout food now?" Cal asked. "I can't believe you wanted us here for this."

"As Stephanie said to me yesterday," Ranger told the room, "she wants to replace a bad memory with a positive one. The six of you went above and beyond yesterday. I wouldn't be here with her now if you hesitated at all in responding. I still owe you, but this is one way Steph wanted to say thank you."

"Technically, this is my way of _marrying you_ before you come to your sense and remember how horrible I am to live with and change your mind about me," I told him. Then I addressed our 'guests'. "But Ranger _is_ right. I want to say thank you for being such great friends to him, and for being there for me when he was gone and after he thankfully came back. It's only right that Ranger has his best friend, Tank, standing as his best man. And I want _five_ of them ... because you all are really 'the best men' I know. I'd be honored to have every one of you in my wedding if you'll agree to be part of my marrying your friend and boss."

"Mary Lou's going to kill you, Steph," Bobby warned.

"No she won't. She'll understand ... _eventually_. I wanted this to involve only the eight of us, and of course Sal here and Ella and Louis if they could've made it, because it was a group effort to get us to this point. So if you say yes to being our witnesses, best men, and wedding/reception guests, we can get to it. I'm not kidding about being afraid Ranger's going to change his mind."

"When my mind is made up, Babe," Batman told/warned me, "it stays made."

"You heard the groom, Steph," Bones said. "You know I'm here for whatever you both need. I'd offer you blood tests, since my bag's in our vehicle, but I know it's likely handled already."

"Yep," I told him. "Tank can work wonders on short notice."

"I was trained by the best," Tank said, cutting his eyes briefly to Ranger.

"I've never been to a wedding like this before," Hal told us. "So I know I'm staying."

"Me, too," Lester added. "As long as you skip that 'giving you away' shit. I'm _not_ signing up for that crap. You may be _Ranger's woman_ , and his wife soon, but you're still one of us."

"I can't be any of you, but I'm happy enough to cry hearing that you think of me as a member of your Rangegroup."

"If you cry, I'm out," Cal told me. "I can take a punch, but not a gut-punch like that."

"No tears, only smiles. Got it."

"Can you work that into your vows?" Tank asked.

"Yes," I answered, "but I'm not going to."

Like everything else in our lives, our kitchen ceremony made a statement and our vows were unique to us. I'm not just proving a point by marrying My Ranger, I'm giving myself, my body, and my emotions, to him in a way I've never done before ... _couldn't_ have done with anyone other than him. I wanted my 'vows' to him to express that so Ranger would finally believe it.

When that part came, I didn't even have to use the cheat sheet I'd written just in case. I took a breath and my heart went out with it and into the words I spoke. _"It doesn't matter if you're answering to Ranger, Carlos, Mr. Manoso, or Sir,"_ I started, _"every one of those men are vital to making up the_ _ **one**_ _man I love, who started off as my Hero, then became my friend, and is now my everything. You pledged your allegiance to your country, your men, and now me, without once thinking of yourself or caring about the sacrifices you'd be making, then and now. So on this day, as I promise to be your wife ... in the presence of our friends and in the eyes of Jersey law, I see it as my duty, responsibility, and complete privilege, to support, love, protect, and defend, you ... today, tomorrow, and throughout every moment of our new life as husband and wife_."

Ranger's words were no less sincere. " _Stephanie, being your partner in crime and in business, gave me a purpose. Your friendship gave me hope. And your love and loyalty have given me something tangible to hold that continually allows me to pull myself out of whatever hell I currently find myself in. There's no price I can pay that would cover what a gift you've been to me, and to my men, but I promise on this day to spend the rest of mine showing you how honored I feel to be your partner, your one phone call, the shoulder you can cry on, your man, and now your husband."_

I felt bad for subjecting the guys, and oddly enough also Ranger, to the mushy part of this, but after years of denying and hiding what I feel for The Boss, there's no way I'm starting our marriage without him knowing exactly how much I love him and how important he is to me. Ranger being the good guy he is, who is _always_ looking out for me in one way or six others, wasn't about to let me feel completely vulnerable alone, so he'd forced himself to get a little personal himself just for me.

Some things really are sacred, so we didn't share what was on the inside of Ranger's wedding band, or running along the outside edges of mine. Tank could've peeked, but I know he didn't ... and _wouldn't_. We all know this isn't just a wedding ceremony. It's a vow of solidarity between me and everyone who cares about Ranger, and it's proof to Ranger that getting rid of me is not an option. Plus our being married shows the world and the Burg that we are a united front against anyone and anything wanting to come between us. And in my own way ... this is a promise to my country too.

If Ranger's willing to risk injury or death for it and all of us living here, I'm going to be right there for him _every time_ he comes home, ready to put him back together anytime he breaks under the weight of trying to save the world or a group of people suffering somewhere out in it. If I can't do all that, I'm going to do what I can to make him feel better until he's able to make himself better. I can't do what he does, but I do know what he needs, and our rings remind us of what we both will always need to hear from the other.

To everyone else, you just see two thin and linked bands of diamonds on my finger, but on the flat edge of the bands running parallel to the diamonds is this promise from him ... " _Stephanie, you are my hope, my center of gravity and sanity, and my home. I will always return to you, Babe."_ Some could argue that he can't promise me something like that, but I disagree. Like he said when the guys arrived, when he makes up his mind ... it stays made. That's one thing that from the beginning set him apart from anyone else I've ever known ... when Ranger gives you his friendship or word, he keeps both. His dedication to his people and his promises to them can be carved in stone and called law.

What I wanted engraved on the inside of his wedding band was a no-brainer, despite what happened here and what could occur once we're no longer living in partial isolation. The words on his ring, that were tucked safely between the dual strengths of titanium and his skin, answered the promise he gave me. " _You_ _are my Ranger ... and everyday, no matter where you are or what you're facing, I will love you and forever stand by you."_


	8. Chapter 8

**I wanted to post this update long before now, and after all the time, effort, additions, and worry, that went into editing this chapter, I think I need a week in the Deal beach house too. :) All characters are Janet's.**

 **Chapter 8**

 **Ranger's POV**

I've been in _live_ or _die_ situations many times, but I've never before had a reason to live selflessly handed to me. And that's what Stephanie offered when she suggested our wedding be held immediately and inside our kitchen. She's made me want to live again and she's helped me focus on the life we now have together instead of on all the death. I took _her_ , her ring, and everything she wanted to give, as quickly as we could get it accomplished.

I went from wondering if she'd ever agree to more than just a single night with me at a time, to her promising never to leave my side for as long as we both shall live. She had said that she wanted to switch out my memories, and she has been more than effective in doing just that. She turned one of the worst moments of my life, into the happiest of the handful of unforgettable ones I've have.

After the vows were said, our rings exchanged, and we shared a kiss that I - and my eardrums thanks to the whistles the guys let loose - will never forget, my men stuck around until Ella's wedding cake had not only been sampled, but three-quarters devoured. When asked, she told Stephanie it _had been_ a white chocolate mocha cake, iced with espresso caramel buttercream frosting. I can't say whether the bite of the tiered-cake my wife fed me was good or not, but the frosting caught on her lips had me going back for seconds and thirds before she caught on and scooped up a fingerful of frosting and put it on herself like she was applying lipstick.

She and I were then left alone to absorb the giant step we had just taken, which was almost as jarring as the fight that happened where we're standing in the kitchen which prompted this wedding idea.

I bought Steph's engagement ring believing it would take her months, if not _years_ , to agree to an actual wedding ceremony. But we had been married in under twelve hours from start to finish. Instead of looking like she needed to knock back a shot of whiskey at any point, she appeared extremely pleased with herself.

"That was a pretty special moment for something we decided on at the last minute," she told me.

"I think the meaning and feelings behind it were what made it special, Babe. Having the men here for this as our witnesses and guests went a long way in helping us all recover."

"That was one of my goals," she admitted, fitting her teal silk-encased body to the front of my black suited-one.

" _Only one?_ What were the others?"

"The most important one is now you are legally stuck with me, which in my mind means I get the right to protect, annoy, and love, you for the rest of my life."

"Should I assume then, that you aren't having second thoughts?"

"I _am_ having thoughts ... but they _are definitely not_ about _un_ marrying you," she said, kissing the underside of my jaw. "A few may involve _undressing_ you, though."

"I would normally have no problems with that, but ..."

" _But?_ You can't be saying you don't want to get me naked? Even when you were telling me you shouldn't do that ... _you were doing that_."

I can't deny it. She was impossible to resist even when I ordered myself to stay away from her.

"You look good enough to eat, but also too good for just an hour or two spent inside a house ..."

"I did this," she interrupted, stepping back and gesturing to her outfit and her overall appearance with one dismissive hand-sweep, " _for you_. You've seen all the effort I put in to look good for you, you married me in the dress I picked to wear solely for you, and you're now trying to convince me to keep it on instead of helping me take it off. That's more than the original job I had in mind for it."

"It's not you or your dress' job to make me feel better, Steph."

"I disagree. You make me feel better all the time. Technically, it's not your job to do that, either, but I do feel better just from knowing you want to try," she whispered against my lips.

That was enough to seal the dress' fate. I tipped my head and turned the quick peck she'd placed on my lips into a real kiss before bending down and hooking my arms around and under her. If she's in the mood to be naked, it would be _ungentlemanly_ to stop her.

I carried her upstairs and brought her into what I've thought of as our bedroom even though she hadn't known about the house until the place was needed. I bought the property with myself, and my men who would also benefit from it, in mind, but the house was all for Stephanie on the off chance I'd be able to get her into it one day on the Bat Cave-forever basis I'd warned her about.

As beautiful as she looked to become my wife, she's even more breathtaking as I'm taking her. Her body flushes, her blue eyes turn soft and sleepy, and she relaxes in a way that I've never seen her do until she was in bed with me ... as if she doesn't have _anything_ to worry about when she's with me because she knows I'll protect her from everything and anybody, even herself at times.

I'm not the only one affected here, Stephanie had me undressed as fast as I got her bare. She always refers to my skin, or my body, as _flawless_ despite the number of scars I've acquired over the years. I think she understood early on that they're part of me and will remain an obvious reminder of exactly what went into making me the man I am today. Some people have photo albums documenting their growth, I have more physical, far more personal mementoes along the entire length of my body that chronicles the life I've lived.

Every time Steph and I are together like this, the fear of possibly never having or experiencing it again, takes over until her touch, soft murmurs, and heat, breaks through the icy fear gripping me. I always try to live in the moment, but on rare occasions ... those moments of potential loss are strong enough to briefly cripple me.

As our first time wrapped around each other as _husband_ and _wife_ settled in on us, neither Steph or I spoke, not because we were afraid of breaking the sanctity of this particular silence, more that we're _savoring_ it. Some may argue that making love as husband and wife would feel no different than it did between Steph and I last night, but to me ... I feel a connection to her that extended far beyond where my body was buried deep into hers.

"Can we just stay here for the rest of the day?" Stephanie asked, dragging her body across the millimeter of mattress between us just to be even closer to me.

"I have no other plans," I told her. "And yours sound too good to waste."

"If I haven't said so enough times today ... I love you."

"I know you do. I can feel it as well as understand just how much you do every time you say it."

"Good ... that means I'm being a good wife already."

"You don't have to be anything except yourself."

"I feel I should be much more than just 'pre-mission Stephanie'. I want to take care of you like you've always done for me. It's not a 'wifely duty' to me, it's been a privilege to finally be able to completely reciprocate all the feelings you have for me. I need you to get that I didn't marry you ' _to save you_ ', I married you to save myself."

Some things don't have to be explained, they just _are_. The two of us, are one of those unexplainable things. We're different as day and night, yet one can never be fully appreciated without the other.

"We're saving each other, Babe. One isn't more important than the other."

"I think you're far more important to more people, but if you want to believe that ..."

"I do," I stated, for the second time today.

I didn't want to ruin our wedding night by falling asleep and waking up to find myself dragging her out of bed or God help me ... much worse. My gut clenched just thinking of possibly putting her through another round of worrying about me, so I curled the front of my body to the back of hers and draped my arm across her hips to anchor us both. After she eased into sleep, I stayed awake ... going over what we said to - and promised - each other downstairs hours ago.

But once again, the good was beaten back by the bad. And I began to replay the mission, pausing it frame by frame looking for any sign that I had overlooked a feeling during that day or the ones leading up to it. I scoured my memory for evidence that I possibly didn't act fast enough or that I misjudged the timing at a critical point. Locating the moment that FUBAR'd the rescue won't help Mike and Little Bear now, all I can do for them is assist in their long - and what I know from witnessing far too many of them - painful recovery. Though I know McCurry and Sosa have already stepped in and have been providing four extra hands for our injured team member.

But I can't shake the feeling that if I somehow discover what I could have done differently or better, that alone will have me reacting faster and being an even more knowledgeable Ranger the next time I'm needed. I tried to keep my body still and as relaxed as I could make it so Stephanie wouldn't sense that I remained wide awake as she slept. As I waited for morning, I focused on the glint of moonlight reflecting off my wedding band where it was visible from under the edge of her pillow and the refracted light hitting the matching ball chain holding my tags which was all she wore to bed. But I should know by now that she'd feel something at some point when the edge had been taken off her own exhaustion. She still swears that her neck actually tingles whenever I'm nearby.

She turned over under the solid weight of my arm and she searched my face through the shadows of the bedroom. "I was hoping the realization that you had just shackled yourself to me forever would've used up the last bit of your energy and worry, but I admit ... I was expecting you to still not be able to sleep much. I'm sorry I conked out for awhile. This is technically the start of our honeymoon, and I'm pretty sure I just broke some written-in-stone wedding law by sleeping when you're still far from tired."

I kissed her curls before speaking. "You're not expected to stay up 24/7 keeping me company."

"Well, how about I just bug you for 22 hours, sleep for maybe two to reboot, and then go right back to annoying you, for however many days/weeks/months you need me?"

"You may want to rescind that offer, because I will always need you even if not being able to sleep isn't an issue."

"You know ... I used to think one of the most impressive things about you is how calm you stay when someone is actively trying to kill you, but now I'm seeing that it takes _far more_ strength to sit up at night, when things are quiet and dark with nothing to distract you, and confront your memories - and all the emotions they stir up - without flinching."

"I could have been lying here picturing what I was going to do with you when you woke up," I said, a little surprised at how quickly she's figured out the intricacies of feeling like you're losing your mind.

"But you _weren't_ ," she said, giving me a full-body hug that included a bare leg, both arms, and a kiss pressed into the skin over a pounding heart that I ordered to return to normal.

"I started off doing that."

"I know we just vowed and promised the heck out of our relationship a little while ago, but can you promise me something else?"

"It's probably unwise to answer before hearing what your request is," I told her, "but _yes_. What is it?"

"Whenever you're upset, or when you can't sleep, promise me that you'll wake me up, call me, or come find me. I know you'd prefer to handle this on your own so you can protect me from a loved one's side of military life, but if you don't let me help, I'm going to be unmercifully beating myself up every time for not being there when you needed me. If you want to up my confidence in myself, and spare me all the mental ass-chewings I'll be giving myself, you need to let me know when you're hurting, are upset, or can't sleep, so I can try to do _something_ to help."

"You help just by being there," I told her.

"I hope so, but I've heard horror stories of couples breaking up or divorcing, even families being torn completely apart, because of their person suffering from one of the opposite ends of the PTSD spectrum ... escalating anger or suicidal depression, with both sides - the military one and their loved ones - completely misunderstanding the other. I don't want you hating me for not knowing what's going on inside you, or for not being able to come up with a quick fix for it. And I don't want to feel stupid for saying or doing the wrong thing so I believe I should stop trying. We _are not_ ending up like that. Good, bad, loud, or quiet, we have to always have each other's back."

She paused for only a beat before she immediately continued.

"From listening to the guys talk, I picked up on the fact that they think they'll be seen as weak for showing emotion or reacting strongly to them. And they honestly believe that people will hurt or judge them if they appear vulnerable, which makes asking for help even harder. But nothing can be further from the truth ... from where I'm standing at least. I see all of you as the definition of strong, not only for surviving everything you have, but for still being able to feel what it did to you instead of you all just shutting down entirely."

I wanted to say something in response to that, but I didn't know what. I've always dealt with things on my own, and just being able to share with her my thoughts and feelings, and the fact that I have too many of them at times, has knocked me off balance.

"There are people like me in the world who really want to help," she continued, "we just don't always know how until someone tells us what we can do. You and the guys have done more than enough for us, but it would help us help you if you all could talk to us and share what you need. Tank and I had a similar discussion touching on that when I was picturing how it would feel when I finally got you back. I remember telling him that we go to war as a country, and we should help you when you come home as a country. It should be as simple as ... you fight for us, and then it's our turn to fight for you."

"We've been trained to _never_ show weakness, Babe. Unfortunately, that stops applying to just the enemy."

"I get that, which is why I want to talk straight with you. When I was still questioning how and why you would love me - which is what made me terrified of telling you how I feel in case you came to your senses and realized that I'm a disaster. Anyway, you told me back then that not saying I love you out loud doesn't make me a tough guy, being brave enough to admit it and then actually do something about it is what makes a person strong. So ... please, love me enough to let me help wherever and whenever I can, and don't pull away from me when I want to hold you if I can't do anything more to fight against the bad stuff trying to take over your head again."

"I appreciate you saying that, but I hate putting you through this. It's bad enough to have to live it, it's selfish to make someone else suffer too. From a month of just waiting with no contact with, or information about, me, I was half expecting you to say you couldn't do this as soon as I did get back."

"You should've been far more worried about me trying to glue myself to you the second I saw you. I found out that I can sorta hold down the fort for you, but I'm definitely not at my best when you're not here. And needing me isn't selfish, you should look at it as a selfless act or as a way I can feel loved and appreciated. You _wanted_ to marry me, right?" She asked.

"Yes," I said, without hesitation.

"Well, that means our problems are now shared ones. What would you do if I was having a really, really bad day and decided to lock myself in the bathroom until it passed without talking to you or telling you what was wrong? Or if I freaked out and took off to Point Pleasant and didn't answer when you called or would only say ' _I'm fine_ ' if I did talk to you?"

"I'd track you down wherever you disappeared to. I would pick any lock you tried to put between us and I would do a visual inspection of you to make sure you're alright, and then tell you something similar to what you just said to me while I kept hold of you until you started talking to me."

"Exactly! I'm not going to just sit back and wait for you to return to 'normal' before I approach you, anymore than you'd wait until I'm less bitchy or mopey to work your magic on me." She slid her naked body on top of mine, not purposely trying to be as sexy as she innately is ... she was just providing me with a higher level of intimacy. "I'm not one of your Army Ranger-men or one of our Rangeguys," she continued, "but you and I _are_ a team, we face everything together from now on."

After four more days of being a two-person team, I decided it was time to stop hiding. If this were a traditional honeymoon stay, I would have prolonged it for at least another week just because being here alone with Stephanie had me more unwilling than usual to share her care and her attention with anyone else. But with everyone back home knowing that we're here because it's not safe for me not to be, made me reluctant to stay any longer than I needed to.

Stephanie has seen a daily improvement in my mood, behavior, and outlook on life in general, but it was clear that I'm still not out of the woods, or more accurately ... I'm not back to being one-hundred the Ranger she loves and thought she knew. After we packed and loaded up what we wanted to take back to Trenton with us, she hesitated by the front fender of the Cayenne Tank had swapped the truck for as if there's something on her mind she's afraid to tell me.

"It will be easier on us both if you just tell me what you're worried about, Steph," I said to her, leaning against the side of the Porsche.

I made it equally clear that I won't be budging until she started talking. She quickly sighed her defeat. She knows I'm not going anywhere without a fight, and she won't do anything that could potentially set my progress back. Also, she can't physically move me on her own ... though I really shouldn't underestimate her, since she did get me from her apartment's parking lot to this house, and then inside with only Tank's voice in her head to bolster her.

"I know you and Tank are particular about being the ones in the driver's seat, but I think I should drive us back to Rangeman. Not that I don't think you can do it," she hurried up to tell me, when she saw that I was about to say something, "or that I don't trust you to get us there, but I barely remember how I got here, let alone the exact route, and I don't want to have to call Tank again if I need an immediate escape ..."

"You can stop trying to come up with plausible excuses, Steph. I was going to ask you to drive, so don't worry about it."

She stared at my face for a full two seconds until she reached a verdict. "You _were not_ going to hand over the keys," she accused.

"Alright, I wasn't. But if you'd like them ... I'll give them to you willingly."

" _Really?_ " She asked, looking at the joke 'panic button' keychain that she'd given me months ago like it's now rigged to blow.

"Yes."

My agreement worried her as much as it had her feeling relieved. I'd normally insist on driving even after she picked me up in her own vehicle for a job, so to let her take the wheel again in the literal sense, had her concerned that I'm not ready to leave here despite my claims to the contrary.

I can admit to myself that I do feel uneasy being around more than just Stephanie and my core team, but I didn't become a leader by letting myself be led around. I'm who I am _because_ I've never been comfortable with being comfortable. If I'm not challenged, I'm not living.

"Are you sure about us heading back to Trenton?" She asked, curling her fingers through two belt loops on the front my cargo pants, using the solid column my body made to pull hers into it.

"This may be the first time you're seeing this, Steph, but it's not the first time I'm living it. I wouldn't put my men or myself in danger by returning before I felt ready to."

Her fingers gripped my pants tighter and she went up on tiptoes to kiss me. "I know that ... or I _was hoping_ you'd say that. Before we're surrounded by people again, I should probably say this ... I married you because I wanted and needed to, because I love you, but also so I can protect you. If it ever feels like I'm smothering you, just try to keep in mind all the things you've done to take care of me ... the new cars so I'd stop breaking down on the highway or on Stark Street, all those pity jobs and paycheck advances you gave me so I could eat and pay my rent. And there's no forgetting the tracking device-menagerie I still find daily so you'll be able to find me if I'm kidnapped or in trouble again. My chosen safety measures may be different and simpler than yours, but please look at them as my way of protecting and loving you like you continue to care for me."

"Winning an argument with you is going to be impossible from now on, isn't it?" I asked, not really joking.

"I would say yes, but we're _not_ going to be arguing. I'm not expecting a ' _You're right_ , _Babe_ ,' every time we see a situation differently, but something close would be okay."

The smile she gave me was almost enough to distract me from her words ... _almost_.

"I'll listen to your opinions and solutions every time," I stated, "but that's all I'll commit to."

She gave me the ring finger. "You've already committed to a lot more than that, remember? Like you agreed to a lifetime of me. Buckle up, Batman," she said against my mouth, as she pressed another kiss to it, "it's going to be a bumpy ride."

She didn't know just how prophetic her words would prove to be.

As we rolled into Trenton, her eyes tracked a couple of gangbanger wannabes as she stopped for a red light. Whatever she was thinking was distracting enough for the vehicle on our bumper to feel like they had to blast their horn to signal the switch to green. The suddenness of the sound had me unclipping my seat belt at the same time my hand went for my weapon before I could stop myself. In less than a second, I had myself freed, armed, and I was whipping around in my seat to point my gun through our back and their front windshield at the impatient asshole.

Steph's distress brought me back around before I could go too far. " _SHIT! God Damn It!_ I'm so sorry, Ranger. This was totally my fault. Everything's okay. Put the gun away. If anyone gets shot ... it should be me for being so stupid," she stammered, as we started moving again.

She kept darting worried glances my way even as I reholstered my weapon and rebuckled my seat belt. I saw a cell phone already in the hand of the startled driver as what happened became much clearer in my mind, so I knew a visit from a member of the TPD is impending.

"It's alright, Babe. I'm fine. Despite how it appears, I'm not an actual time bomb, just jumpy. What were you thinking just now?"

"That's not important. I'm sorry. My mind drifted and I got careless."

"You were intensely focused on something, I want to know what."

"I just had a rant going in my own head. It's nothing."

"It's _something_ if it took you out of the moment."

"Maybe I'm just overly-sensitive right now after seeing and experiencing what you and the guys have to go through, but I was thinking if people like those two boys - not _men_ \- on the corner there want to walk around wearing camo-clothes, sets of dog tags they didn't earn, while trying to carry arsenals on their bodies that could take out a small country, why don't _they_ enlist _themselves_ and stop _pretending_ that they are anything like you? Maybe then they'll have some idea of the hell you've survived and now have to keep reliving. It's possible if they got shipped off to a war zone at the tender age you were, they'd be less likely to try to create their own on the streets here."

"You don't feel anything halfway, do you?"

"Apparently not. You guys have been enduring this crap forever, it's about time someone else steps up to the plate and takes the hits for you. I now have a husband to look out for and a group of men to fight for. I'm ready to do my part. You having to fight any battle _should_ end when your missions do ... which I think is when _our_ jobs should begin."

"You've already done more than I could've asked for."

"No, I haven't ... or I would've figured out a whole lot sooner why you used to come to my apartment in the middle of the night after you'd been unreachable for awhile. I now see that you came to me because 'the wind' had been especially tough on you and you really needed me. I should've realized that and stopped being stupid faster. While I was busy _punishing myself_ , I was _hurting you_."

"I did my share of the hurting by not laying all of this out for you so you'd understand what and why I was trying to keep you separate from certain parts of my life."

"That's sweet of you to say, but let's be honest ... we both know I gave you very little reason to trust me not to smash your feelings if you _had_ handed them all to me. Believe me, I get that. What I didn't understand, I ran fast and far from."

"You're not running now."

"Only if it's _to_ you. Am I right in expecting another unwelcome appearance from a Trenton cop?"

"Depends if it was one of Morelli's buddies running the plates that were called in ... or a friend of yours."

"God, it feels like I'm _never_ going to be free of that jerk. Even when I've had no contact with him, he fucks up my life."

"Did he really, Babe?"

She stopped cursing Morelli out to really think about my question. "No. No ... he hasn't. I have a hot husband, in-laws I love who seem to like me more than my own parents do, an overly-large group of close friends - not just Mary Lou anymore - and now a beach house to escape to whenever we need a break from life. You're right. I have a pretty good life going ... when I was already feeling really lucky just from having you back."

"Focus on me and on our life, and don't give that asshole another second of your time, energy, or thoughts. He has never deserved them ... except for when you decided to exact revenge via Buick. He had that coming."

"Gotcha. Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

She paused. " _Funny_ , but can we not joke about shooting for at least a day?"

I gave her an abbreviated nod. "Your question ...?"

"If you knew how your life was going to change, how you'd end up being affected by what you've seen and had to do, what that would _continue to do_ to you after you're home, would you have still done it?"

"Become a Ranger?"

"Yeah. It's one thing to hear about what _could possibly happen_ to you, and what you may have to face long after you return home, but having to fight to feel even a teeny bit like your pre-deployment self when you aren't actually 'working' ... or are truly retired from the job, I'd think would make it a harder career to sell, despite people wanting to do what they can to save the world or protect their portion of it."

"I would never send someone where I wouldn't go myself."

"I knew you'd say that. I appreciate more than I can put into words that you and the guys feel like that, but it also makes me a little angry."

How her mind works and her unique perspective on things has fascinated me as much as her beauty attracted me.

"How so?" I asked, genuinely curious as to what she'll say.

"You knew what you wanted - or _had_ \- to do with your life. In a way, you would've suffered if you couldn't fight for what you believe in, but now you're stuck suffering because you _were_ able to fight multiple battles for us. It seems so wrong that you being a noble kind of guy, selflessly signing your life and body away to the government for the greater good, _should_ result in a happy/peaceful life now. You stepped up when you didn't have to, so I admit ... I'm really pissed that you're still fighting to stay alive, even when you aren't being shot at or are the one having to do the shooting. I guess it makes sense why you guys stayed with some type of security work. It'd be hard to adjust to working in a library or bank when your nerves and adrenaline are used to living in 'survive at all costs' mode."

" _Do not_ feel sorry for me, Steph. I've been more fortunate than I deserve."

"I love you and hurt for you, but I _don't_ feel sorry for you, only proud of who you are. I'm just sorry for what you've gone through and still have to deal with everyday. But don't you dare say you don't deserve what you have now. You do ... even if I'm included in the package."

"I have you and Julie, a successful organization, a group of friends I'd die for ... who'd do the same for me, and a family that supports me even when they don't always understand me. I'm not in a position to complain."

"That's what I'm saying. You are incredible ... and so are all the people who support you. I'm just making sure I can be one of them without having to ask to be part of your world or have to force my way into it. I can't lose you to anger, your memories, or because either of us feel unloveable. I know it probably feels like it, but you _are not_ alone, Ranger. Even if I only have a vague idea of what you've been through, I want to be the first person you talk to about all of it ... or at least the fourth person after Tank, Bobby, and Lester, if they can help you more ... so maybe the bad, sad, or scary, thoughts will lose their power over you for the few minutes I'm absorbing the details as you share them. Keeping all the memories and emotions inside just lets them fester and have more control over you. Give me a chance to shoulder some of the load you're carrying around."

"That's asking more than a wife should have to tolerate," I told her.

She nodded. "That works for me. I want to be ... _more_... at everything I do, being your wife especially."

"You have already given me more than you know. Losing yourself is hard to cope with, but I have a more difficult time with the random loss of control."

"Of course you do," she said, checking the rearview mirror as if expecting the entire police force to be tailing us. "Your job - pick whichever one you want to, because they _all_ apply - hinges on you being in control ... of yourself, your actions, your emotions, your men, your weapons, your equipment, etc. Feeling like you're free falling at a time you're the most vulnerable, I'd think, _would_ hit you the hardest."

"Your 'research'? Or talking to the men again?" I asked, still surprised that she would put in the time to learn about me and how to help me not even knowing if it'd be needed.

Unfortunately, this time around ... I had needed her with a vengeance and a passion.

"Nope, this particular insight came from me ... and also _you_ in a way."

"How do I factor in?"

"You've always pushed me to keep my gun loaded and on me at all times. I was slow when it came to my own safety and protection, but I was thinking that when someone _had_ pulled a gun, flamethrower, or chainsaw, on me ... what I felt in that moment I realized I didn't have my gun on me, or that my usual way of calling you for help was gone, must be sorta how you feel after you've been triggered ... you're desperate to defend yourself, but how you would normally do it is different."

She turned onto Haywood with no incident, but I felt one coming nonetheless. "I wish I could claim to be that clear or focused," I shared. "When I feel threatened, someone usually dies so I don't ... which is why I was extremely hesitant letting you see this side of me."

She parked next to my truck in Rangeman's underground garage and turned to look at me. "I'm glad you got over that. I'm bitchy, whiny, and I've lived life lacking any motivation to make mine better, but I _am_ fiercely loyal and I'm stronger than I look. I can't wrestle you to the ground like the guys needed to in order to keep you safe, but I do think under 'normal' circumstances, I can reach you before something like that is needed. Every superhero has a weakness ... I'm hoping I'm yours."

"You're not a weakness, Babe. You have a habit of making me feel stronger, which in turn makes me fight harder."

She reached over and squeezed my thigh, not caring that someone in the control room could have at least a _side_ eye on us.

"That's a good thing?" She asked, likely recalling just how hard I was fighting to get to Morelli.

"It may not seem like it after recent events, but it _is_ a good thing because I _will_ do everything I can to get back to you as quickly as it's possible to."

That must have been the right answer because she leaned over the console and kissed me. "You're a really good guy, you know that? _I'm_ the lucky one here. Always remember that."

I wasn't so sure about that when I spotted a squad car in the rearview mirror pulling up to the Rangeman gate. Steph tensed and then relaxed when we got out and saw Gazarra behind the wheel.

I remained on guard even as Stephanie calmed down. Eddie can't take me in unless he gets a lucky shot off and kills me. He's _not_ that lucky and I know he wouldn't do that to Stephanie, nor would I kill one of her childhood friends. He isn't likely to hurt my wife ... and that's the only reason I'd have to eliminate him.

I hit the button on my key fob and allowed him onto my property.

"Heard you were home," he said to us. "A 911 call is a hell of a way to announce that you two are back in Trenton."

"Go big or go home," I stated.

"That was my fault," Steph told him. "I was thinking about something else and irritated the driver behind us. Did you offer to come investigate when the owner of the vehicle was revealed?"

"I volunteered as soon as I heard ' _Porsche Cayenne_ '. There aren't many of those around here. My 'investigation' consists of finding out how you both are." He turned to me and took his hat off in a show of respect. "Tank filled a select few of us in on the Morelli situation. On behalf of almost everyone at the station ... we're sorry that someone in our own department behaved in the way Joe did. I know he has a creepy fascination with Stephanie, but even I didn't think he'd hurt her or challenge you because of it. Something's going on with him. I'd been passing by Steph's apartment to make sure he wasn't hanging around waiting for her, but I'd stopped doing it when I found out she was mostly staying at Rangeman."

"He finally realized Stephanie is never going to be his," I informed them, "and he can't handle it."

"He should've learned how to deal with that by now," Steph said. "Even before we became a couply couple, I couldn't see anyone but you ... which is why I married _you,_ because I can't picture myself with anyone else."

Eddie went still, then he glanced at our left hands that were linked together on her lower abdomen. " _You two are married?!_ "

"Yup. For almost a week now. Best week of my life if I'm being honest," she answered, turning in my arms and making a circle around my midsection with hers, holding on as if I'm about to be taken away from her.

"I didn't know," Eddie said, staring at Stephanie. "Tank neglected to mention _that_."

"It was sort of a spur of the moment thing," she replied. "Only a few people know about it."

"And I wasn't one of them?"

Her beautiful blue eyes narrowed. I learned early on that's always a bad sign.

"How long was I kept in the dark about you dating Shirley?" She asked. "I seem to remember finding out about it only _after_ you said the four-letter word to each other."

"Don't lie, Steph. You knew about us long before I told Shirley that I love her."

" _Love_ wasn't the four-letter word I was talking about. I learned that you two were seeing each other when you had your first major fight after you unwisely called the movie she wanted to see 'dumb' and 'a waste of two hours'. You both separately tried to get me to take your sides."

He had the decency to blush at that reminder. " _Oops_. You're right. What I meant to say is ... congratulations on tying the knot. You're happy, aren't you?"

"Yes," she answered immediately. "I'm where I want to be ... with the man I'm meant to be with. Life can be a bit complicated at times, but it's really, really good."

"You sure?" He asked, as if he'd have a chance in hell of taking me in a fight if I weren't making - and keeping - my wife happy.

It's absurd for him to believe he could survive me, even if he has the driving force of defending Stephanie on his side. He can't do more than annoy me ... but I appreciated his wanting to stand up for my wife.

"I'm sure," she told him. "I wouldn't choose to be in anyone else's sneakers. I'm genuinely happy with Ranger. And now that he's home, I can worry a bit less, too."

She thought she could, but we both froze hearing a vehicle coming with a purpose down my street.

"Damn it," Steph said, recognizing her mother's car. "The gate's already open. It's too late to block her."

"Shit," Eddie muttered. "I should've known. Piero is on duty today."

"Which means his mom at the Clip and Curl was told, and my mother or Grandma would've been notified as soon as someone I know was mentioned in the call."

"You can head inside and let me get rid of her," I offered.

She hesitated and then shook her head in the negative. She now has good reason to question how far I'd take a threat. As Helen sailed into my lot as if she'd been invited, Stephanie prepared for a different kind of fight.

Mrs. Plum barely let the car come to a complete stop before she was out of it and bearing down on her daughter.

"I have been calling and calling you, Stephanie," she began. "Where have you been? And why didn't you pick up or call me back? I'm your mother for heaven's sake. I could have been worried sick."

"But I know you weren't worried about me ... at least not for any of the reasons I'd appreciate. I was out of town and busy. I didn't want any distractions. Unless someone was dying, _nothing_ would have been as important as what I was doing."

"Which involved _him_. I heard all about what _he_ did to Joseph, and what was reported today," Helen pushed, pointedly avoiding looking at the arm I had wrapped around my wife.

From the rigid set of her shoulders, I know Stephanie is ready for her and this confrontation. "Did you also happen to hear what a stalking, insulting, provoking, asshole, 'Joseph' was before Ranger got home? By the way, here's where your robotically-said ... ' _Thank you for your service_ ' would come in, but I'm guessing since it's Ranger who just provided one hell of a service, you're going to withhold even that small show of appreciation and courtesy."

"I know it won't mean anything if she did say it, Babe."

"She owes you at least that ... and a hell of a lot more if she cared about me staying alive these past few years, since you're the main reason I am alive."

"He just got Joseph fired," Mrs. Plum pressed. "You should ..."

"Stop there, Mom. Joe got _himself_ fired. If it were anyone other than Ranger he was antagonizing, he'd be dead right now ... not just unemployed."

"He and then his employees ..."

"His name is _Ranger_ , _Carlos_ , _Ricardo_ , or _Mr. Manoso_ , so pick one," she told her mother. "Stop referring to Ranger as ' _Him_ '. And the guys here are _family_ , they _are not_ employees."

I would end this now, but I think Stephanie needs this moment as much as I want to protect her from it.

"Angie Morelli told me that Joseph was treated at St. Francis for three cracked ribs, two bruised kidneys ..."

"And a partridge in a pear tree," Steph interrupted. "I don't care what happened, or what will now happen, to him. He deserved what he got."

"Stephanie, be reasonable. After what these men have done, it's not safe for anyone to be around them, not even you."

Considering our stoplight conversation, I knew that was the wrong thing to say to my wife.

"Sure, right," Steph said with a heavy dose of sarcasm, "it's _soooo_ much safer to just use 'these men' up so they have to fight to function, then discard them and pretend they don't exist anymore until they act out and some asshole like Morelli arrests or shoots them ... or maybe they kill themselves first, and people like you will never have to spend even one minute thinking about a major _dis_ service we're doing, and the part we all play in it. Turns out, _I_ knew exactly how to support Ranger, so that's what I did ... and what I will continue to do."

"So you're just going to ignore that side of him?" Mrs. Plum asked.

"No, it's not something anyone should ignore. But I just vowed to help _my_ Ranger cope with it. He did exactly what WE trained him to do, eliminate a threat, and my Rangeguys were standing up big time for their friend, what was _Joe's_ excuse for loitering in my lot? He loves me _so much_ he has to stalk me just so he could catch me alone? That he cares so deeply for me, he had to show up and insult all the people in my life and tell me how stupid I am again? Or how about he was so worried about me being hurt by Ranger, he choked and bruised me himself?"

"Why would you say something like that about Joseph? He's a _detective_ , Stephanie. He upholds the law, he doesn't break it."

"Threatening to arrest someone after he purposely provoked him, is abuse of authority if you ask me. And trying to physically restrain me so I couldn't get away from him to welcome Ranger home, hints at kidnapping, or would holding me hostage be a better fit? And are you forgetting that my first job as a bounty hunter was to arrest him for skipping out on a murder charge because he was scared to be a cop in prison for the amount of time it'd take for his 'innocence' to be proven ... by me in the end, not even by one of his cronies. Solving that case and getting him free was one of the stupidest things I've ever done. Anyway, Morelli's never been the upstanding Burger you've since convinced yourself he is ... after years of telling me how bad he is."

"So you see, you only listen to me when it suits you. I say stay away from someone and you end up in their garage. I tell you that it appears he's grown up and isn't that troubled boy any longer and he could be a suitable husband for you, and you now want him arrested. And it's happening again. I warn you about what people will say if you associate with certain people, and you leave town with him."

"If you want to continue to be on speaking terms with your daughter," I broke in, "you'll stop speaking now and start listening. Stephanie wants 'your Joseph' arrested for a reason. He broke multiple laws ... stalking and assault among them. Stephanie had the bruises to prove it."

"If the matter hadn't already been solved by the time we got back to Trenton, I wouldn't have stopped until I got him fired myself," my wife stated. "I took pictures with my phone of my neck with that in mind. Morelli's become an even bigger hothead than when I knew him. Now he seems to be a problem for more than just me."

"You'll excuse one man while trying to ruin another?" Helen asked, not understanding the situation or her daughter at all.

"In this case ... _absolutely_. Oh ... by the way, meet your new son-in-law. I technically, legally, lovingly, and with not a single doubt, married Ranger while we were away. So if you'd prefer not to have to admit that you were dead wrong about Morelli being a good guy and your future son-in-law, you can distract the Burg sharks scenting blood by telling them I was out of town enjoying my honeymoon. You may want to keep in mind that _Ranger_ will be the father of any grandkids you get from me, so you probably shouldn't tick him or me off anymore than you already have."

"We've been married for less than a week, Steph," I said, not a little apprehensive, "and you're talking children?"

"Shocking, right?"

"Yes. You've always stated that you don't want kids," I reminded her, trying to work out my own feelings on the subject.

I'd love to see a curly-haired, blue-eyed, mini-tornado just like Stephanie, but the same thought scares the shit out of me when I picture being around a beautiful little Steph-clone with my unpredictable responses when I'm feeling the affects of being who I am. That was one major factor in deciding to let Ron adopt Julie. She needed a father that could be one who didn't require caution tape circling him. It's bad enough thinking of Stephanie seeing and dealing with my _over_ \- or _under_ \- reactions to things, picturing a baby, toddler, and then a teen, trying to exist in my unpredictable and sometimes completely numb world isn't something I can train for.

Julie was/continues to be a blessing I don't deserve, but thinking of purposely creating another little person had me questioning myself all over again. How much damage would I cause to our little family? Could I be a positive influence in his or her life on the good days to make up for all the bad ones? Would they love me in the same quietly desperate way I'd love them?

"That's not something we need to get into right now," Steph told me, her eyes staying locked on my face. "Especially when Eddie's here and I remember exactly what it was like to babysit his little hellions."

"You're exaggerating," Eddie told her. "My kids aren't bad, they're just a handful at times."

"You're in denial. _Two inches_ of my hair they cut off, Eddie! And that's only because I woke up and ruined whatever destruction they had planned next."

"That was your fault for sleeping on the job," he replied.

She shot him a glare before giving me a much friendlier expression. "We can discuss what we feel about the idea at a later date, and when we're back to being _alone_." She shot Eddie another glare, but it was a brief one. I was more important. "I want to hear everything that just went through your mind, and I'll tell you what I was thinking."

"This is your idea of a joke, isn't it, Stephanie?" Mrs. Plum butted in. "I can just imagine what you were thinking ... _'Let me see how I can cause my mother to have a heart attack this week_ '. As if you disappearing off the face of the earth, and not answering your phone even _once_ when I called, wasn't infuriating enough ... you add a ' _I'm married_ ' joke to twist the knife. I would know if my daughter got married."

"Guess you're not my mom then, because I'm married to Ranger by heart, by band, and by Jersey law. That _fact_ isn't going away so you may need to restock your pantry tipple-supply."

The tipple-mention must have convinced her that her daughter did marry me without a word to anyone. Steph didn't even tell me until the last second, so I can understand Helen being surprised. But _surprise_ isn't what I'm picking up on from my 'mother-in-law'. Neither is she hurt that her youngest didn't tell her anything about this until now. No, Mrs. Plum is either furious that her daughter married someone like me ... whether that be because I'm Cuban, from Newark not the Burg, a military man who she believes is a mercenary that she looks down on, or that I'm a bounty hunter with a reputation _no_ mother would or should approve of.

"You're serious? You are actually married to this man?"

"Yes." She held up her left hand. "Do these rings make me look married? Though I admit to loving the band on Ranger's hand almost more. And you'd better watch it, Mom, your Burg-mask is slipping. You can be pissed all you want at me, but I'm not letting you direct it at Ranger."

"I'm a big boy, Babe. I can take it."

"There's no question that you can handle anything, but you shouldn't have to put up with anymore crap ... especially from my family."

"I didn't say a thing, Stephanie," her mother said, releasing each word as if she was tossing verbal-grenades, waiting for each to hit its target before she continued onto the next.

"You didn't have to. The daggers your eyes are sending us are easy to interpret."

"Well, how would you expect a mother to act when she learns that her own daughter made a life-altering decision without discussing it first?"

Eddie looked uncomfortable, and the expressions crossing his face said he was trying to figure out how to diffuse this situation. He's known these two women for his entire life, and he still hasn't learned that there is _no_ possibility of ever diffusing it. Usually, you have to just wait for the explosion and then get busy repairing the damage done. That image was too easy to picture and it brought back the memory of Mike and L.B. as I was trying to pull them out of harm's way, but I was able to redirect my mind and eyes to Stephanie. She can't afford to have me distracted right now.

"Because you weren't the one marrying Ranger. _I_ was the lucky one. And my mind was so made up, I would've married him against his own wishes and not felt a bit bad about it."

"You're lucky you got him to say 'I do' before admitting something like that," Eddie told her.

"I'd say the words again right now after hearing it," I said, doing some admitting myself.

"This was to get back at Joseph, wasn't it? Just to stick it to him and make sure he knows he has nothing left," Helen said. "Anytime marriage came up, you'd try to sneak out the back door. What did he do to you?"

" _Ranger_ ," she emphasized again, "loves me. That's all he had to do. You should try it sometime."

"Don't you get smart with me, young lady. I'm still your mother. And _I'm_ the one with the right to be angry here. I _had_ been worried sick ... and I'm even more concerned now."

"You don't think Stephanie should be angry that her own mother has been talking for ten minutes and never once said ' _I'm glad you're home_ ', ' _How are you_?', ' _I missed you_ ,' or ' _I'm happy for you_ ', to her?" I pointed out. "You complained she 'disappeared', but you haven't even asked why she left Trenton."

"I heard all about Joseph being attacked and then assaulted again, followed by his badge being taken away from him. I assumed _you_ were behind that and you convinced my daughter to hide out with you until it was safe to return."

"Morelli was part of ..."

"No, Ranger," Steph interrupted, "he was the _entire_ problem, not ' _part of_ ' it. And _Joe_ was the one hiding, Mom, behind his badge, his mother's reputation, and the Burg's memory of what an asshole his dad was." She glanced at Eddie before her eyes strayed to and stayed on me. "Now my own mother is defending him to me. She doesn't need the details, since she's clearly not interested in there being two sides to this story."

"Steph's right, Ranger," Eddie added. "Joe was solely responsible, and that's why the Chief wants to offer an in person apology from his department to you when you're interested in hearing one."

"But Joseph was the one hurt ..." Mrs. Plum argued. "I'd think the Chief of Police would want to speak to _your husband_ only as he was arresting him."

"You _would_ think that," Steph said, her eyes issuing me an apology.

"Last I heard, when you assault someone, they get arrested," her mother informed us.

"Oh really? Is that why you had 'little Joseph' put under 'house arrest with his mother acting as his warden for fingering your five-year-old?" Stephanie asked. "I didn't understand what he was doing, but you and he _definitely did_. If I had a five-year-old, _anyone_ who touched him or her would not only regret being born, but they'd be missing both hands, never mind just a finger. And if it had been another kid, the parents would've seen me so often as we continued to 'discuss' the matter, they'd know exactly how many curls I have on my head."

That shut Helen up, and Steph squeezed my hand in another 'I'm sorry' for bringing up something that she knows will have me wanting to blow Morelli's brains out all over again.

"I think it's time for you to go, Mrs. Plum," Eddie announced. "You _are_ on private property and I'm sure you don't want to have to tell people that your own son-in-law had you arrested for trespassing."

I felt him step out of the lobby door instead of continuing to give us space by staying behind the glass. I turned my head to see Tank now standing outside the Rangeman building with his arms crossed over the three-acres of chest ... his maximum intimidation stance. He's concerned about me in a way only a battle buddy could, but he's now defending and protecting Stephanie like he's done for me over the years, as another 'Welcome Home' gets fucked up.

Sometimes combat feels easier than navigating civilian life. On a mission, it's black and white. You complete the job and hopefully stay alive in the process. Back here, there's more gray areas than clear ones. I can't even love Stephanie without facing more obstacles than the most complicated of missions.

"Do you need me to clean the lot?" Tank asked, flicking his eyes briefly over to Helen before dismissing her entirely to return them to my wife and I.

"It's okay, Tank," Steph told him. "My mother was just leaving. Right, mom?"

"I'll walk you to your car, Mrs. Plum," Gazarra offered.

She didn't want to leave until she got what she came for, but with a cop who's also family, a 'Tank', and myself, present she couldn't get a foot in Stephanie's guilt-door. Helen could leave on her own, or be physically removed. At least Eddie has figured out that the 'Helen Plum persona' means more to her than anything else. Getting herself escorted off the grounds by a uniformed officer would make the Burg rounds in seconds.

Steph stood curling into the side of my body, in-between Tank and I, and she pressed her cheek into me as we watched Helen drive off. Gazarra was slower to leave.

"Thanks, Eddie," Steph told him.

"No problem. I'm just glad that you're back and things are okay ... or _closer_ to okay."

"We're with family," she said, hugging me harder and glancing way up at Tank. "We're good."

"Should I pull paperwork for a restraining order?" He asked, turning cop for the first time since he'd arrived.

"For Joe or my mother?" She asked him.

"I can get you two."

She smiled briefly. "I'll get back to you on that. Though, I want Joe kept away from Ranger. Make that known to everyone, especially the Chief and Juniak."

I almost grinned. "I own a security firm, Steph. It'd be bad for business if I had to hire out to the TPD."

"I don't want him anywhere near you. If anyone makes jokes about a restraining order I got on your behalf, send them my way and I'll quickly straighten them out."

"Yes, Ma'am."

I'd feel more reassured if she elbowed me, but she still won't risk a sudden 'attack'. However, with a glance she promised retribution at a later date.

"Okay, I can relax now. A Stephanie who didn't need to get married at gunpoint I'm not familiar with," Eddie teased, "but I know that ... ' _Sleep with one eye open_ ' look you're giving Ranger. I'll head out after you promise to call me if you need something ... _any_ of you."

"We will," Steph answered. "Thanks again."

He got into his squad car and backed out. Showing more sense and sensitivity than Morelli will ever posses, Gazarra didn't hit the horn as he pulled away like he's known to do.

The list of _beware-ofs_ continues to grow. Horns for their suddenness and volume. Fireworks, jackhammers, and car backfires, resemble weapon fire to those who have experienced it. Even popcorn popping during a visit with Julie caused a visceral reaction that had been hard to explain to her. Something as mundane as trash bags can cause flashbacks if you spent any time filling body bags. You never get used to transporting one and feeling the head of someone - one of your own buddies in worst case scenarios - moving around independently of their body inside the bag. The sight of blood ... whether it's a trickle, a pool of it, it covering your body or clothes, or an air-filling spray, can trigger memories of injuries like Mike and L.B.'s or the men we've lost in equally horrific ways. The scent of grilling meat can make you vomit and your body dry heave for hours afterwards as you're forced to remember the sight and smell of your men or friends being blown up or basically burned alive from a mortar attack or an IED.

Even doors opening when I don't know who's on the other side of it can be problematic. I've tried to minimize potential situations, or my reactions to them, by making sure I can see who's coming into my building and up to my apartment at all times. And also by never being at a disadvantage. I keep my vehicles new and running smoothly so I don't have to encounter sounds I can't immediately identify, and in case I have to dodge something questionable in the road that brought back the times trash had been purposely planted in order to blow vehicles and Soldiers or Marines clear off the road. And excellent steering is essential if you have to swerve to avoid something being thrown or shot at any vehicle I'm in.

Steph thinks always wanting to drive is a testosterone-thing, but it's really another way of defending myself and protecting her, like carrying two guns and a knife at the minimum on my body is. My driving zone silence isn't to clear my mind in preparation for a job. It's more that I'm sorting through the images, thoughts, and plans, flashing inside it. I have to keep an eye on her, the road, what's beside and behind me, and worry about how she'll be taken care of the next time I'm called in. I also spend more time than most scheduling any construction to be done in or around my building, and I need to arrange apprehensions so me or the men I send can plan ahead of time for what we will be seeing, hearing, and everything that will be remembered. It may seem extreme and fucking tiring to do everyday, but in our world ... prevention really does save lives.

" _Are_ you good?" Tank asked.

"I am now," my wife answered. "How about you, babe."

" _Stephanie_ ," I warned, at her using my nickname for _her_ on me.

"Just checking. Okay, it seems like Ranger's good, too," she said to Tank.

"I've assigned everyone something to do so you'd have some space when you got here, but Brown and Santos are probably chewing at their restraints to get down here and see how you're doing themselves," Tank informed us. "Watching a cop car pull up didn't go over well, but knowing it was Gazarra relaxed their trigger fingers slightly."

Stephanie is now looking worried, but thankfully not about _me_ this time.

"Please tell me that they aren't _actually_ cuffed or zip-tied in there," she said to Tank. "You guys are funny when I can tell you're joking ... and a bit scary when I can't."

"They're up to their eye sockets in paperwork, but that's the only way they're tied to their desks. They understand if you want to go right to seven and skip the floors in-between here and there."

"That sounds like a good idea," she told Tank. "We'll get our stuff upstairs and then I'll just sneak down and steal Rex back, since it's the The Boss everyone will want time with."

Physically, I'm ready to get back to work, but I already miss the peace of the beach house and having Stephanie all to myself. As I always do, I adapted and used every situation to my advantage, even this one. She had been prepared to live with me long before we arrived back home. She wants to be close to me and I don't want Morelli to be able to have any contact with her. Although the cause fucking sucks, things have worked out surprisingly well for us.

The last few days before we left Deal, Tank stayed for longer intervals after dropping off Ella-food or Steph-supplies. When the first of those 'visits' went well, Brown came along with him, followed by Santos. It took a little time, but I did feel comfortable talking to them, though I didn't let Stephanie go far. It's pathetic to admit, but even when she was getting ready for bed or taking a shower ... if I wasn't in the shower or the room with her, I'd be waiting for her right at the door.

Logically, I know she's alright even if I don't have both eyes on her, but that didn't stop my obsessive need to keep her within protecting-distance. Steph and I knew it would do some good for me to talk to my men, since all three have been in situations similar to what I've just returned from, but each time Stephanie went to go into another room to give us what she called 'Guy Time', I'd grab her hand or wrist and pull her down onto my lap before I would be able to talk and get some of my feelings, regrets, and darker thoughts, out.

She had heard the basic outline of the rescue mission by that point, and she refused to shrink away from me or any new detail I added as I spoke. She'd hunkered in, settled herself into my body deeper, and laced her fingers through mine, as I shared the moments leading up to Mike and L.B.'s injuries, and after we completed the rescue. I still have a hard time talking about collecting their legs to send back with them and seeing the beaten, dirty, and starved, condition the Sergeants were in. It's far too easy to choke on the guilt that comes from not being able to see all of my men safely home and for not getting SGTs Gary and Kendrick out right after I touched down in that Godforsaken place so they could've been spared all those extra hours of torture.

I saw it as my duty not only to get back the men taken from us, but also to protect those I'd brought into the mission with me. I only accomplished half of my goal. Two of ours hadn't been killed before I reached them, and they now have a second chance at living if they can see being rescued as the blessing it is, but two highly respected Soldiers of mine - Mike and L.B. - lives and abilities were forever changed.

It's something I can't accept ... that I could've returned Mike to his wife and family almost entirely unscathed if I'd reacted faster or had been in his place. I'm not stupid, I face everything braced for the worst possible outcome, but I also go in hoping I can prevent it. I couldn't this time ... so that's made this one harder to shake off.

Steph took my silence at her offer to get Rex on her own later as another chance to protect me. "The guys know 'hellos' aren't necessary. Like I told my mom and Eddie, we're family ... not 'need to catch up' friends," she told Tank and I. "Once we're sorta resettled in, I'll leave you for just a sec and poke my head in on five just long enough to snag my fur-buddy."

I know her so well, I can tell she has an agenda beyond that. "What are you planning?" I asked.

"Nothing. Okay, nothing _bad_ ," she added, when I leveled a look at her. "I just wanted to sit in your chair, behind your big 'ol desk as Mrs. Boss for a second. It's stupid, but it's still something I want to do. Maybe it'll help reinforce the feeling that I do belong here."

"Let's go," I told her.

"You sure?" she asked. "We can wait until later, or tomorrow even, for me to take over your office."

"You'd be _sharing_ my space, Babe, not _taking it over_. We can see how you feel sitting in the power seat ... if only for a few seconds before Rex moves back home."

"That furball has been good for business," Tank admitted. "If an apprehension had gone bad, the day ended better with the rodent being awake when the men returned. I wouldn't have believed it, but he's become something of a morale-booster. It's hard to stay pissed off or depressed when you're seeing how ridiculous he looks cramming a baby carrot into his face or trying to run on what legs he does have."

"I thought Rex could help, I just didn't know how much."

"It doesn't take much to kick the guys in the ass," he told her. "Give them an order and a reward afterwards, and they'll get the job done every time."

"I love the little guy and all, but I don't know how much of a reward a slightly self-centered hamster can be, though I'm glad he's been able to make the guys feel better," she said.

She smiled at something in her own mind. If I had to guess, I'd say she was picturing the men trying to feed miniscule food to her rat with their dinner plate-sized hands. She then took my hand and hooked Tank's arm with an elbow, propelling the three of us into the building. The elevator ride up to five was comfortably quiet but she wasn't when the doors opened and she located her rat-friend.

"Why the heck is Rex running on his wheel _in the afternoon?_ " Steph asked the control room. "These days, he's had to sleep all day just to prepare for ten minutes of running while I'd be telling myself to go to sleep."

"That's what happens when you feed the Range-rodent fruits and vegetables instead of unwanted Pop-Tart crusts and stale Saltines, Steph," Brown came over to tell her to cut the tension we're all feeling with me being back.

"Great, you all have corrupted him. Rex is going to give me a disgusted whisker-twitch that says ' _I'm not eating that_ ' next time I give him a piece of my cookie for dessert, isn't he? You've probably turned my snack-mate against me."

"He may have the brain the size of a pea, but he knows who cares about his furry butt," Ram assured her.

"Congratulations on the nuptials," Woody said to us. "It's not everyday our boss and our friend get hitched."

My system relaxed as Steph did. "It could be an _everyday_ occurrence. 'The Boss' is allowed to marry me as many times as he wants."

"Who are you and what did you do with our Steph?" Junior teased, being the third person today to question the drastic change in her. "You'd sweat and turn redder than Cal and I combined whenever the M-word was mentioned. And not only did you leave and return married, I don't think you're joking about doing it everyday."

She shrugged in a way that I know is anything but casual. "You could say I've been to hell and back and woke up understanding what's really important in life. _The Boss_ being the most important in mine. I felt the need to show it ... not only to him, but to people like my mom and Morelli who've always doubted what we mean to, and what we would do for, each other."

"She's been saying shit like that for weeks," Santos said to the room, feeling cocky because he had been one of the few allowed to visit us in Deal, and he was also one of the men keeping Steph sane while I was away.

No one but those who were there know exactly what happened before we got to Deal, what transpired at the house, and why I was triggered so quickly, but everyone of my men had an idea of why I was MIA from Rangeman. Just them knowing Morelli was harassing Stephanie would have them feeling homicidal, so my own feelings on him physically harming her would be a thousand times more deadly than their payback intentions.

It's clear to all that I would've been hard to control under normal circumstances. Coming home from something no one should ever have to see, much less participate in, would make Morelli an endangered species just from breathing near Stephanie.

"Her man being gone fucked with her head a bit," Tank offered as a possible explanation.

Steph put her hands palms up in front of her. "I don't deny it. I've already warned Ranger that I'll likely try stowing away if he leaves for more than a coffee run."

The men all looked concerned, not only about me being called in again, but they know there's a strong chance Stephanie isn't kidding. It's obvious, to me at least, that they're now picturing the fight they'll have on their hands, one possibly similar to the kitchen battle in Deal, keeping her safe _here_ when she's hell-bent on _coming after me._ I've seen a lot in my life, but the thought of having to tell her to stay put while I go someplace she can't see, talk to, or help, me created an internal ' _Duck!'_ response. She _is_ a hell of a lot tougher than she looks.

"You guys are both here now, so I'm not thinking about the possibility of either of you leaving," Brown said, not touching Steph yet looking like he wanted to sling an arm around both of us. "You here just getting The Rodent Rex? Or are you two hanging out for a few minutes?"

"Stephanie wanted her rat ..." I began.

"Yep, I wanted my _hamster_. Plus, I was curious to see what life looks like from _Mrs. Bossman's_ perspective, so Ranger's gonna let me sit where all the strings are pulled and the decisions made ... in his office, on his chair, and behind the mile of hardwood he calls a desk."

Tank shook his head, but I spotted the grin he was fighting. It's such a Steph-thing to do and say, it felt almost like everything is back to normal.

"Your chair awaits, Babe," I told her, sliding my arm around her back, and turning her towards the hall and my personal space.

I'm fully aware that every man not attached to a monitor was following us. If Steph wanted to see my world, staring at all of them standing there at the 'business end' of my desk will effectively do it. I unlocked the door to my office that I felt I left three lifetimes ago, and tugged my wife to the power seat.

She was about to fit her perfect ass to the leather chair, but I beat her to it. I sat down and settled her in my lap like I'd done in Deal when I needed her and contact with her to be able to talk. This time, I didn't require physical contact to speak freely, I just wanted to hold her in the place I've thought about doing it for so long but didn't have the right to. She sighed in what sounded like satisfaction, and she leaned back against my chest as my arms crossed over her body, locking her to me.

Santos had been smiling, but he turned serious as he glanced over Steph's curly brown haired-head and held my stare. "We're glad you're back," he said after a beat, inspiring a round of nods and ' _We are, toos_ ' from the rest of my men.

I tightened my arms around my world while addressing the people who make up the other part of it. "Not half as glad as I am."


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks again, MamaJoyce, for sharing your knowledge and stories that inspired this one, especially this specific chapter. Hopefully I did the research department proud. All familiar characters or events belong to Janet. The inevitable mistakes are solely mine. I'm just glad I was able to post this chapter this week.**

 **Chapter 9**

 **Steph's POV**

"You're worried about my mind checking out again, Babe, yet you've been staring at a blank monitor for seven minutes, barely even blinking. What's going on?"

"Too much stuff hitting me all at once apparently. I swore that I'd try to get back to normal and finally pull my work-weight around here, yet I can't help but just sit here and think about how frickin' lucky I am to have you come home almost how you left ... and that I only have to walk a few feet to your office to see you do what you do best."

"You just got off the phone with Mia, didn't you?"

"Yeah. She called to give me an update on Mike ... and to vent a little, I'd guess. I've been telling her that I'm here anytime she needs to talk, but this is the first time she's taken me up on it."

"That's significant progress."

He brought my extra chair close and sat down so our knees could touch. Not long after we returned to Trenton from Deal, I was given my own office space on five, likely because there have been times both Ranger and I needed a moment free from cameras and concern to just hold onto the other for dear life for a good minute or ten. Sometimes, we didn't even speak. He'd show up in my doorway and just open his arms, and I'd find myself enveloped in a Ranger-hug so tight and comforting, I'd be happy to live forever in it.

Today, Ranger snagged my left hand and rubbed his thumb over the rings he put on my finger. I'm still not sure if this new habit is for his benefit or mine. Some people do yoga to relax, others listen to music, unless Ranger's in imminent danger and I'm terrified for him ... I eat junk food when I'm stressed. But Ranger makes a beeline for my rings, or at night in our bed ... he reaches for my entire body and rubs it in all the right ways in order to center himself and redirect his mind from something horrible towards something decidedly less about death, destruction, and disappointments.

"I hope so," I finally answered, settling in next to him, feeling a sense of peace myself knowing he's taking a break from work just because he thought I needed him. It is reassuring to know that my mental state and well-being are as important to him as his are vital to me. "Mike's wife isn't as lucky as I've been," I continued. "She's with her husband, their daughter is staying where she was planted ... _thank God,_ but their life and marriage is never going to be the same."

"No one is _ever_ the same, Babe. Every time, after every job, we come home different. And the result is not for the faint of heart. You've seen that firsthand."

"I know ... and that's what is making Mike, L.B., and Mia's, situation way worse in my mind than anything I've personally experienced. It hit me all over again how fortunate I am that I got you back the way I did. Even though I know how much you're still hurting, you're trying to keep me from worrying, busting your ass to convince me that you're the same man you were when you left."

I don't think I'm explaining this right, so I took a breath and tried again.

"Just from witnessing my quick temper when it comes to certain people and situations, and my suddenly wanting to be a married woman when I used to bolt at just the thought of marriage, shows that _I'm_ not the same person you said goodbye to that morning. There's no way you would be the same man you were when you left. I wouldn't expect _you_ to be. I swore to myself that despite what will or could happen, I'd take one day at a time and do whatever I can to get you through them. I have trouble saying out loud the stuff I usually keep in my head, but I hope you know that you're the _only_ person I feel one-hundred-percent safe with ... whether it's talking about something stupid or being smack in the middle of something terrifyingly serious.

"That just shows how remarkable you ... and Mia are. Most spouses/partners bail once the happy homecoming turns into daily fights for survival. Not that we can blame them."

I left my seat and shared his. "That's another reason I consider myself extremely lucky. I _know_ without a shadow of a doubt that you need me in order to power through the day, so I never have to worry about you kicking me out of your life, though one of my biggest fears has been that you'd come home and shut me out. I can handle missing you if I know you're coming back, but my breaking point would be if I knew I'd never get to see you, hear your voice, or touch you, ever again from something I did or didn't know to do."

He crossed his arms over my hip and linked his fingers. "I can promise you ... distancing myself from you never once crossed my mind. _You_ got me home more than any weapon did. But I admit, yours is an interesting way of looking at a life with me."

"A life with you is the _only_ one I want. If it makes you feel better, it's the same with me when it comes to you. Which is why I was staring into space feeling so thankful for my current life, yet selfish at the same time after hearing just a little of what Mia's going through only two states away. I'm guessing that's why you didn't go into detail about what Mike and also Little Bear have and still are enduring."

"L.B. is faring much better, must faster. But with Mike, saying that he has a long road to recovery ahead of him, sanitizes a subject not many have the stomach for."

"But this is _me_ we're talking about," I reminded him.

"It is. And I knew - and know - how hurt and upset you'd be to hear the full extent of Mike's anger, pain, and all the adjustments, he has to go through now and later. People tend to focus on how you lost a limb and how a prosthetic looks, feels, or works, they don't realize the months/years of agony, frustration, and dedication, it takes a body and mind to make what is labeled a 'full recovery'."

"I didn't know exactly what to say to Mia, so I tried just to listen, but she was doing the same thing you did, trying to spare me the gory details. Maybe it's selfish, but I can't know what someone won't tell me. I _should_ know, heck _everybody_ should know, what Mike and everyone like him is going through so I can do more to help them ... or at the very least, acknowledge the fight they had to take on in a way that doesn't sound fake, stupid, or insensitive."

"Everything okay?" Tank asked, after a brief 'I'm standing here' knock to my mostly-open door.

"Yes," Ranger assured him.

The guys don't hover exactly, but it's clear to Ranger and I that they are always around at the first hint that something is different with one or both of us. It still amazes me that I get almost the same consideration as they give Ranger. I haven't had to go to war like they all have, but being the sensitive guys they are ... they get that I have, and have had, my own set of challenges right here at home.

I would think it'd be exhausting to live on constant guard ... hell I _know_ it is just from how I've been watching out for Ranger and now worrying about guys whenever they leave the building, but our RangeMen refuse to appear stressed or sorry for always having to be on duty ... _on_ and _off_ the clock. They've taught me without needing words that this is what true friendship is. If you need them, they're there ... no questions and without any hesitation.

"I just spent twenty-five minutes talking to Mike's wife, Mia," I told Tank. "It wasn't one of their better days."

Now Tank tensed.

"Mike's okay," Ranger promised him. "I spoke to him and also to his doctor this morning ..."

" _That's_ why Mia called," I gently accused. "You told her to."

"No ... I just reminded her that if she needed to release some of her fears and worry without upsetting Mike, you gave her your number just for that purpose. It was her decision to place the call."

"It shouldn't matter as long as I could help, but I'm still relieved that I was a _choice_ , not a _requirement_."

"You're always our first choice, Steph," Bobby replied, having been walking down the hall as I was saying that. "What's going on? And why wasn't I invited to the party?"

"As you know, Mike required another surgery to get his wound to close, and he isn't happy to be down longer because of it," Ranger informed the guys. "Mia is feeling the strain."

"How far along is she now?" Tank asked.

"About seven months, nearing eight," I answered. "She's terrified that if she doesn't take care of herself, she's going to cause their daughter to be premature. That's a boatload of stress all on its own. She's actually setting alarms on her phone to remind herself to eat, stay hydrated, sleep, and to order herself to get off her feet for a few minutes. That fear ... along with worrying about how Mike is doing and feeling, plus being scared that he'll be under more stress if hers affects their daughter's health, is taking its toll on her."

"Add in Mike's questioning himself, his future, and if Mia will stick with him if she learns how he's really feeling, means McCurry and Sosa have a tougher time right now at Walter Reed than they did during our mission," Ranger told us.

"We're still going to visit them again this weekend, right?" I asked him.

"Unless he specifically tells us not to come."

I couldn't hold back a snort. "Like _you'd_ listen if he did. I've already learned that when someone says ' _Don't worry. I'm fine_ ', you know _that's_ when they need you the most."

He kissed my hair for that insight. "If you weren't already my wife, I'd rectify that immediately."

"So would I."

Not sensing trouble brewing, Bobby pulled out and then relaxed into the chair I vacated, while Tank found a place to lean where he could see and hear everything in the room.

"How did Mike get from where you jerked him - and L.B. - to safety, to where he is now?" I asked, while I'm literally surrounded by a roomful of knowledge.

"Believe it or not," he told me, "this is really just the beginning of Mike's journey."

"I was afraid you'd say something like that. It's hard enough watching you not be able to sleep, I can't imagine being in Mia's shoes ... trying to will her husband well with her thoughts and prayers alone."

"In this case, only the strong survive the transition. I have every confidence that she and their marriage will go the distance," Ranger told me. "Mike loves her and he would _never_ abandon their daughter. Making his family proud is why he enlisted. To do whatever he can to protect Mia, and now their baby, is why he continues to fight."

"I got that vibe from her, too. Her love for Mike is pretty close to what I feel for you." I turned to Tank and Bobby. "Whoever you guys end up with will have to come close to Mia and I. _You_... _are_... _not_ settling for less than someone who'll do anything to keep you alive and feeling entirely loved in the process."

"Why do you think you haven't met anyone we've gone out with?" Bobby asked.

"Because you're all smart. You know I would go into full interrogation/protection-mode, so I suggest you choose carefully. You're not committing to someone who'll run at the first hint of trouble."

"Down, Babe," Ranger said into my ear.

"Shit. She's married to The Boss for less than a minute and she turns into our mother," Bobby complained to Tank.

"I prefer this over her scared or crying," Tank shot back.

I snuggled into Ranger. "Or both. There were too many of those days for my liking," I admitted, remembering the desperate call I made to Tank from my parking lot and another from the bathroom in Deal. "So tell me about you saving Mike."

"I didn't _save him_ ," Ranger said, tensing. "I only _moved him_."

"You moved him and L.B. away from a freakin' bomb, Ranger. That's the same thing as saving his life. You also got him out of there and were still able to complete your rescue mission. I should remind you that you got two Sergeants home to their families, on top of saving Mia's life by making sure her baby's daddy made it back to them. While you, McCurry, and Sosa, were headed straight into what I'd guess was terrorist-central ... what were Mike and Little Bear's immediate battles?"

"Do you want me to clean this up for you?" He asked.

"Only if it's going to trigger you. You had to actually live it ... and you shouldn't have to again, but if telling me about it will help you, I'll live through only _hearing_ about it."

"Alright."

He paused before sharing more information on Mike, and I suddenly got scared that I'd pushed him into doing something he isn't ready for.

I lifted my head to look up at him. " _Ranger,_ I ..."

"I see it every minute of the day whether my eyes are open or closed. Telling you won't change that, but seeing that you understand, might lessen the effects of it."

I tried not to move my head as I looked to Tank to see if Ranger is telling me the truth, or if he's just trying not to make me kick my own ass again for messing up.

"You don't need Tank to tell you what I'm thinking," my far-too-intuitive husband pointed out.

The rumble of his voice under my ear where my head's resting was louder than his words. He isn't angry, but he's going to nip a potential problem in the bud whenever he comes across one.

"That wasn't what I intended," I told him. "I just don't want you to _ever_ hurt yourself for me. You can do everything else, but _not_ that."

"For future reference, I won't share what I can't," he assured me. "If you're hearing about something, it's because I need you to."

"Talking about the trauma helps," Tank admitted. "Usually it's done with the men who were there, or with those who've been in similar circumstances, but family and friends _can_ help if they're willing to really listen and try to understand what no one else but us can."

"You've proved yourself, Steph," Bobby said to me. "You got Ranger, and also all of us, through things likely only a trained professional or fellow sufferer could. I can say that without even having to think about it. Any of us would go to you if we needed to talk."

"If you were worried about seeing me cry, you might want to reconsider talking ... at least about me. But thank you. It means a lot to me that you said that. Waking up every morning knowing that I'm Ranger's wife is enough for me, but I'm _so glad_ you guys see me as more."

"You are far more to everyone than you will ever fully understand, Babe."

"Enough about me ... _please_. Let's talk about those who actually deserve praise ... you, Mike, and Little Bear."

"Nice segue," he told me, with an extra body-squeeze courtesy of his arms.

"I thought so. Now back to Mike ..."

"Once I pulled him and L.B. to a more secure area, I got started trying to stop more of their blood from being lost."

"Which is why you got so upset when you saw blood on your hands in Deal?" I asked, seeing him again in my mind go still in the wreck that was the kitchen before hightailing to the shower to scrub the blood and some of his own skin off.

"Yes."

He didn't elaborate and I didn't want to push, so I just waited until he felt comfortable speaking again. Thankfully, that took only a few seconds.

"Mike was conscious, which was reassuring but also painful because I was part of the moment he looked down and saw that he was missing what should have been at the end of his leg that had only been there a literal second before."

"Oh, God," I whispered, purposely telling my mind not to picture the scene even though it was the only thing my eyes and brain could see.

"What was worse was him watching me collect parts of himself and L.B. His pain-filled eyes stayed on me while I put him and L.B. and parts of their bodies onto the chopper so they would in fact leave with everything they arrived in-country with."

"I still close my eyes just to rip off a Band-Aid, I can't imagine the absolute horror of seeing part of yourself in a separate location from where you're lying."

"It's an image you can't ever forget. Unfortunately, it's all-too-common on battlefields with bullets, rockets, grenades, and missiles, being aimed at you almost every hour on the hour. For longer amounts of time - and more frequently - if you're there to do a specific job in an overly hostile area."

"Honestly, I'm surprised anyone can come home _not_ wounded," I said.

" _No one_ does," Ranger answered. "The wounds may not be visible, but they _are_ there requiring the same immediate treatment and attention."

I hugged him harder. " _Now_ I know that. I used to think you were strong because you can handle any-and-everything. But I now get how incredibly tough you are just for getting through every day and effectively convincing everyone around you that you are invincible ... even though your mind and insides tell a different story."

"You get used to it."

"No, you don't, but I know that's what you want me to believe. I don't suppose you can say Mike and L.B. were given something to knock them completely out, like those medically-induced comas they love using in TV show plotlines, so they couldn't see or feel anything else painful?"

"Nothing is ever that simple. Mike already knew what happened to him. That blow couldn't be softened."

"Being a person who was overly fond of delusions ... instead of drugs, I relied on a different spin on reality so I didn't have to face the magnitude of what horrible thing was going on in my life. I know it's not the 'healthy' way to go, but I'm a little sorry Mike doesn't have that option."

"If we don't confront a problem head-on … people die, Steph. That's why we're trained to face an extremely grim reality at every possible turn."

"Being given your own body bag before your first deployment, and told to write a will before you've even lived, does that to you," Bobby broke in.

"Crap," I said. "I don't even have a will now."

"You don't need one," Ranger told me. "You're _not allowed_ to die."

"I thought you don't do delusions?"

"Only that one."

I don't want him dwelling on the fact that we don't have that kind of control over our lives. I playfully nudged him to get his mind back on Mike and off possibly losing me. I don't have to walk on eggshells around Ranger, but I do know which subjects to tip-toe quickly past.

"Mike and L.B. were medivaced out," he continued, "and on the chopper they were made as comfortable as it was possible for them to be until they landed at the closest military hospital."

"Like the show M*A*S*H?"

"Same idea. More building, less tent nowadays."

"Since my dad controlled the TV, I remember I developed a little crush on 'Hawkeye' from when I'd stop long enough to watch part of an episode. Maybe he was something like a premonition that I'd grow up and marry a man like _you_. Mike was stabilized there?" I asked, not being able to conceive of how stressful and painful that time had been for him.

Mike is going through hell right now, but his recovery must be less horrible than that moment when he realized he's a different person from the explosion on.

"Yes. And luckily it was one that has a veterinarian in residence and on call 24/7 for our MWDs. Mike was then flown to Germany for step one in his recovery ... a surgery to clean up what the IED had already done, and prepare his leg for all that's ahead."

"How long was he there?"

"Almost two weeks," he answered.

"So Mia knew he was hurt ... could she be with him for all of that? Or did she have to wait until he was flown home?"

"Ummm, Steph," Bobby said, "your face just went white, but it's now turning a frightening shade of red. You're not having a stroke, are you?"

"Only an emotional one." I put my best badass face on and looked first to Tank and then at Bobby. "You guys better listen up here ... if something _ever_ happens to Ranger, you'd better get me to him two seconds after you hear from - or about - him." I turned and glanced up at Ranger. "Since you're the best, we shouldn't have to worry about that."

"It's a nice thought, Babe. And if it helps you sleep at night ... I won't dispute it, but on some level you need to remember that bad news is only one second, one bomb, or one phone call, away. My tag has a dent in it for a reason."

"Don't remind me. But I do understand what you're saying. I spent a month clutching my phone 24/7, dreaming of a phone call, yet at the same time ... when the phone _did_ ring I worried that it wouldn't be you on the other end of the line," I said, giving his body a hug since I'm one of the lucky ones who got my Ranger back. "But let me be real clear here, I want to know everything, good or bad, and be wherever you are if at all possible ... even if you don't think I should be."

"I gathered that. But not many realize that despite what their man/woman sees, does, or looks like ... they will never return the same way they left. Mike and L.B. just have more obvious reminders of what war does to people."

"I know ... and I'm so sorry I didn't realize it sooner. If I had, your late night visits to my place when the wind blew you back into town, could've speeded our relationship up a bit."

"You've made up for that in a short amount of time," Tank told me. "Not only have you been there for Ranger, while you were waiting for word on him ... you helped the men by letting them talk. What means the most to us is that you _actually listened_ to everything we said and tried to put yourself in our boots to get an idea of where we've been, a feel for what we've done, and who we are now because of it."

"I learned a lot from all of you ... personally and collectively. The benefits of our time together went both ways, Guys. I'm glad I could and _can still_ help. So Mike went to Walter Reed from Germany once they decided it'd be safe for him to fly?"

"Yes," Ranger answered.

"That's good ... right? If he was stable enough to be able to be flown halfway across the globe that fast?"

"What he's already been through - and how it happened - is a lot to handle, but where he is now is really just the tip of Mike's iceberg, Steph."

"Medically or emotionally?"

"Both. He's far from being out of the woods. Knowing Mia is there, and that she's willing to stand by him despite this injury, will help his recovery substantially, but a lot of it depends on how Mike's body and mind copes with the trauma."

"He's going to feel guilty and responsible for L.B. getting hurt, and for not being able to complete the rescue without a hitch, just like you've been doing," I stated, hurting for everyone involved.

I know everybody has a story to tell and a struggle to overcome, but Ranger's, Mike's, and the two Sergeants rescued, have a hell of a mountain of pain to climb. I get why it feels insurmountable some days. L.B., not being human, seems to have a major advantage here. You can run from a person, a problem, or a home, but you can't hide from your own mind and memories no matter where you go. Medication can get you over the hump _if_ you look for professional help, but you could stay stuck there if you go the far more dangerous route and isolate yourself and try to self-medicate your way through the pain. The comment Ranger made not long after we became friends ... ' _I used to everything_ ', suddenly took on a much darker meaning.

I instinctively curled up tighter in his arms as I thought of what Mia is likely feeling right now. Not only does she have a baby to think about and take care of, even though she's not even born yet, she has to gauge and ride out every mood, thought, or feeling, going on inside of Mike. It can't be easy on him to face the loss of a limb, and possibly the end of his career, while trying to half-heartedly convince himself that he should be celebrating the fact that he made it back to his wife and lived to see his daughter be born. Thanks to Ranger's rattler-like reflexes and the inner strength Mike has that got him on Ranger's team in the first place, he's still here to help Mia raise her.

Just not knowing if Ranger was alright during the Ramos 'murder' mess, and him cutting me out of the investigation for my own good not long after, was hard to accept. But if Ranger was injured, angry, and hurt, and wouldn't let me help him, or God forbid not even let me near him ...

I can't go there. Literally, my mind won't let that nightmare form. Mia is tougher than I am, because she's calmly taking care of her family, and being Mike's rock as well as his heart, while I'm a wreck just picturing a different kind of reality that didn't include Ranger.

"What I feel pales by comparison to the shit going through Mike's mind right now," Ranger stated.

"No it doesn't," I said, looking directly into his chocolately eyes. "Even not knowing all the details, anyone who cares about you can see that you survived a literal hell on earth. And you being a good guy … you had to bring the worst part of it home with you. Don't tell yourself that your suffering is less than Mike's. It may be different, but it's no less horrible or life-altering."

"It's not the same, Babe. I may have trouble sleeping, feeling, or controlling myself when provoked, but right now Mike is questioning _everything ..._ and also everything he is."

"Think about it this way, Steph," Bobby told me. "Not only is Mike fighting his way through the aftereffects of surgery, and all the pain associated with it, his job for the foreseeable future doesn't move beyond healing and learning to walk again. That's a feat when you're a toddler, but it does a number on you when you're a grown-ass man who just got knocked back down to life's basics."

It just occurred to me, seeing those commercials around Veterans Day and sometimes Memorial Day where a celebrity or public figure is looking for a photo op and visits injured Service Members. A salute from a hospital bed, or a painfully tight smile from someone from one of the four branches of the military tied to his or her bed with tubes needed to get them better, doesn't do squat to tell their stories. A two-minute news clip hardly ever turns into an hour's long documentary showing what happens when the cameras are gone and the people who are able to ... get to go home.

The Vets with the brave faces, perfect salutes, or attempted smiles, are left to face what's ahead alone ... with no cheering section, no daily media blurbs to encourage them in their recovery, no calls from random citizens asking 'How are you?' and saying 'Thank You'. They left with only their buddies to fight in places we likely can't even find on a map, and they come home with what buddies they have left to fight various issues in our own backyards with little to no support. To say it's selfless for them to have enlisted is a major understatement, when we think it's rude to not say 'Thank you' to a restaurant server, but don't bother saying the same to people willing to die for us. My head and stomach hurt simultaneously. Thankfully, Mike has Mia and his family, and Ranger started Rangeman to help everyone who isn't as lucky.

I had to stop picturing the faces and people I met and talked to the times Ranger let me go with him to see Mike, just so I could catch Tank's words. He still isn't someone I'd call vocal, so when he does talk ... I listen.

"You've been around Ranger and all of us," Tank said to me, "when we've wanted to move in on an apprehension, but had to wait until we had a positive ID before kicking in the door ..."

"Yeah, you guys are patient almost to a fault, but you don't like hanging back when there's a job to do and you're there to do it. The restrained energy you all give off could power a small country."

"Now multiply that by about a thousand and you'll be able to feel just some of what Mike is," Bobby said to me. "He'll question his manhood, his identity as a Soldier, whether he's good enough for Mia, and if he can be a 'real father' to their daughter, now that he'll forever be seen as 'handicapped' to those who don't know any better."

"Mia can care less about how he came home, she's just so fucking grateful that he did. Losing a foot doesn't make her love Mike less, it's actually just the opposite," I said, speaking for her as well as for myself. "And I see what she means. That he's already talking about when he'll be walking again, and asking for an exact date and time for when he can get started, makes her love and respect him even more than she had ... and both her love and respect were through the roof before he even left this last time. If something like this happened to you, Ranger, or any of you guys, it wouldn't change how I see or feel about you except it'd maybe increase the emotion. I'd think you're even more incredible for kicking recovery's ass likely in record time."

"Therein lies the problem, Babe. We're not talking about how Mia sees Mike, or how we feel about him, the real issue is how Mike sees himself. He won't react well to thinking the world will only see him as _disabled_ now despite what an incredibly _able_ -bodied man he is. If he feels people think he needs to be babysat after more than a decade of being the one running _into_ the fire, never away from it ... that will fuck with his head up until the moment he realizes for himself that he's seeing his own worst fears, not what everyone around him really thinks of him."

"We sure as fuck aren't thinking of him as anything less than one badass motherfucker ... excuse the language," Bobby stated with an apology to my 'lady ears'. "I'll kick the ass of anyone who treats him like he's less than what he's proven himself to be."

"At ease, Bobby," I told him, and I caught Ranger's look in the process. "I've been hanging around you guys too much, haven't I?"

"I think we've established that it's physically impossible for you to be around too much," Ranger assured me, kissing my curls.

"You're full of it, but I'm so glad you are. What I was going to say is ... that from what Mia has said, your overseas backup McCurry and Sosa are at the butt-kicking-ready in Maryland with them if anyone dares upset either Mike or her. I'm getting a crash course in loyalty just from hearing her talk about how supportive they've both been."

"You didn't need a lesson in loyalty," my guy told me. "It flows innately through your blood."

"I don't require loyalty-lessons anymore, that's for sure. Anybody comes after any of you and they'll have to get through me first. Mike's actually lucky he's not in Trenton or he'd have to be fighting off my offers to help, along with those of his wife and _his brothers from other mothers_ , because I believe getting him well and back to being your teammate will help _you_ get better."

"Mike has never _stopped_ being a member of my team."

"You know what I mean. If he's anything like you, he'll flip a switch and decide that he can still do everything he _has_ done. And then he'll turn hyper-protective as a husband and father, seeing that _no one_ can take care of, support, and love, his family like _he_ can. We just have to support him and be there to remind him of that until he believes it himself again. Mia isn't about to let him get away, so I'm hoping he realizes how needed he is sooner rather than later."

"Mike _is_ a lot like me," Ranger said into my hair. "He won't let Mia go. It'll take some more time to fully accept the life he has now, but when he does ... he'll hold onto her tighter than ever before. He has a wife and daughter to live for, he won't let them down. Bailing is not in his DNA."

"That's what Mia wasn't saying but I could tell she was hoping," I told him, in case he wanted to pass the info along in his next conversation with Mike. "If I didn't know they've been married for three years, I'd swear they'd just started seriously dating by the smile she has in her voice whenever she talks about him."

"Like you go all _girly_ when Ranger's mentioned or is about to invade your space?" Tank asked me.

"Afraid so. Mike and Ranger are stuck with us."

" _Stuck_ wouldn't be the word I'd choose," my hubby told me.

"Good. I want you _loving_ me, not just _tolerating_ me. How long will it be before Mike gets to go home? I can't imagine it, they're going to have a new baby soon, and the first part of her little life will be spent inside a hospital ... cheering her Daddy on."

"I've made arrangements for them to have a little more of their own space due to the needs of a newborn as well as Little Bear being a frequent visitor now that he's back to having a civilian life again. Handlers are given the first chance at adopting their dogs, but it takes thousands of dollars to accomplish it, so not many servicemen get the opportunity for this kind of reunion. Mike is _not_ going to be one of them. He and L.B. need each other."

"I'm smelling another line item in your budget," I teased. "You've never said it, but I know you like dogs. You even let Bob cozy up to you, so I know you'll always try to keep partners together despite the nature of the job."

"Bob's smarter and better behaved than his owner."

"Yep ... just as hairy though." As immature as the joke was, I couldn't let a Joe-jab go. "Since I'm allergic to doctors, I really don't want to imagine the amount of hospital time and doctor care Mike's in for, but at least he understands what's happening to him no matter how much he hates it. Any chance the government employs a dog-interpreter or pet psychic so L.B. knows that everyone is there to help him ... and that he'll be okay and back with Mike in no time at all?"

"That question is coming from the woman whose own mother calls her selfish? It's un-fucking-believable," Tank said in a disgusted tone.

" _Nothing_ about my mother makes sense," I told them. "I'm actually happy that she has such a crappy opinion of me, because it means she believes I'm nothing like her. The day she approves of me, or of what I do, is the day I'll start worrying."

"You don't even remotely resemble her, Babe, aside from you both having blue eyes. Even if a DNA match was on the desk in front of me, I'd have a hard time calling her your mother. You are everything good in my world … and the total opposite of both of your parents on every level and every subject."

"Hmmm, a DNA test could be fun," I said, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. "Maybe it'd prove that I'm adopted ... or was dropped here by aliens that have a really twisted sense of humor."

"Funny. No matter the donors, we all love the Stephanie we're fortunate enough to have with us," Ranger proceeded to tell me.

My face showed suspicion when I glanced up at him. "You're trying to make me feel better so I won't dwell on what Mike and Little Bear are currently enduring. We _should_ be dwelling on it. If you guys have to spend every minute of everyday just trying to stay alive, we should be spending the same amount of time thinking about you, wondering where you are ... either at home or overseas and if you're feeling alone there, and putting some major energy into thinking about how you're surviving and what you need from us to continue to. So tell me more about what's involved with getting Mike's body to cooperate and heal so we can get him walking through Rangeman's front door ASAP."

"His emotions aside," Ranger started, "once his leg heals, he'll be given the most basic of prosthetics so he can begin working on how to stand. He'll then work up to balancing on _two_ legs when he doesn't have a physical connection to one of them."

Tank, knowing a few guys who've gone through something similar, shared what he knows. "It'll take Mike around six months to learn to walk again with an artificial limb, and he'll be doing physical therapy everyday for a hell of a lot longer than he'll want to … up to a year, likely more. He'll have to do even more than the usual with each new and better prosthetic he graduates to which will be specifically designed just to fit him."

"That alone is a problem. With each prosthetic he receives," Ranger informed me, "Mike will have to go back to the rehab facility for anywhere from ten days to a month before they feel comfortable letting him go back home. And that's five days a week of rehab for that month. "

"Jesus. That's like an Olympic-level competitive sport-commitment. You see people all the time who are missing an arm or a leg, but I've never really thought about how grueling the process is from the moment you come to grips with the fact that your body has forever been changed, up until you see a folded-up sleeve or a realistic appendage a person is sporting. What is the last phase?" I asked. "Where Mike realizes that he's _twice_ the man than most, understands that he's absolutely vital to his family, and when he'll be able to live his life free from the hospital or its staff?"

"He'll be able to get around before that, but the end goal is a bionic foot, which could be as far as three years away. And that alone will require another surgery to implant the electrodes, plus more healing time and another unwanted stay at the rehab center."

"And Steph, since you periodically talk about having to lose the five pounds of doughnut-weight you gain after a stressful event-binge," Bobby added, "if Mike gains or loses more than that, he'll have to go back and get his bionic ass-kicker refitted."

"If he gains more than ten," Ranger told me, "he may need to have an entirely new one built for him. And he'll have to undergo the rehabilitation process all over again so he can readjust to the differences in it. So there is _no way_ losing his foot is ever NOT going to be on his mind ... even when it comes to something as mundane as choosing what to eat or as serious as trying to convince himself to get out of bed every morning when he's not in the mood to face the day."

"So you're basically saying that Mike and Mia are in for a lifetime battle ... whether it's physical, mental, or a doozy of an emotional, one. Given what Mia has shared about her husband, I think he's going to say getting to their daughter before she can will be the biggest accomplishment in his recovery. What about L.B.?" I asked. "I'm guessing animals have a much easier time adjusting to a new body, but will Little Bear get a prosthetic, too?"

"They are available," Ranger told me. "A lot of animals are actually happier without having their bodies weighed down by one. After the amputation, they adapt quickly to using only three legs and continue on like that's how they were born."

"If he was part of your rescue team," I pointed out, "L.B. likely also has superpowers. I'm sure he's far too mature for fun canine contraband, but he's getting a box full of 'Get Well' toys and treats. I'll have to be more creative with a 'Get Better' surprise for Mike."

"Hearing we got married immediately upon my return was a surprise to him," Ranger shared. "But he sees a difference between what we have and his worries about Mia. She married him before this happened and he believes she's used to the old Mike, whereas you made a promise to me when I was at my worst, after not being exposed to that type of behavior from me before."

"He'll see that's bullshit logic soon enough," Bobby said. "He'd never allow another man to have _his_ family. Like Ranger would kill a guy who looked too hard at you, Steph. The alpha male-thing has its pluses and drawbacks. I'm glad it wasn't just our asses that got a shock though," Bobby said. "I mean ... I'm not shocked that you two got hitched, having been around Steph when you were gone, Ranger, but ... _how_ , _where_ , and _who was invited_ , I still can't completely believe."

"Never has something so fucking bad turned out so good," Tank added.

"Guess that means you approve of me."

"Shit, Steph ... if I could've filled out a form for who we think deserves The Boss - and obviously us for friends - _you_ would've been overnighted right to this building."

"She _was_ delivered," my hubby told me, tightening the arms he had around me and not appearing at all surprised that I was about to kiss him.

"And very well received by the looks of it," Bobby told us, a teasing but happy smile tugging at his lips as he watched us.

"Yup, I found my _forever_ home and family. Good luck getting rid of me. I have a feeling Mike and Mia will be wanting to get rid of me soon enough. They may not be as receptive to my butting-in as you guys were. There's nothing I like better than _helping_ people who claim they don't need it."

"Was that a dig at us?" Bobby asked.

"Nope. You guys didn't require _help_ /help, you just needed someone outside of your group to see you for the great guys and amazing friends you are. I'm notorious for noticing what's not obvious to the average person, so your grisly senses of humor, tattoos, clipped answers, and blank stares, only intimidated me for an extremely short amount of time before I found a way to worm myself into your group."

I was going to elaborate on why I'm not only lucky to have Ranger but them as well, when there was a quick double-knock on my doorframe. Hal poked his already reddening face into my office. Clearly something has him upset.

"Ummm, _Boss_? _Tank_...?"

"What's going on, Hal?" Ranger asked.

I could feel every muscle in Batman's body going from just muscle-hard to coldly rigid, though not one thing showed on his face. If I weren't pressed into him, I'd never know he flipped to high-alert from relaxingly-guarded. I used to envy that gift ... him never letting someone see him sweat except me in our bedroom or the guys in the gym. _Now_ that quality makes me ache for him in a way I still haven't been able to put into words.

"Woody wanted to make sure it wasn't just a coincidence before we reported it ..."

"Report what?" He asked Hal. "You know I want to be informed of everything, coincidental or not, the second it's noticed."

"Morelli's vehicle just made its third pass past the gate. It looks to everyone in the control room like he's trying to screw up the courage to stop one of these times."

"He has always been a pussy," Tank stated. "He talks tough when he's the only set of balls in the room, but they immediately retract whenever he knows he'll get his ass kicked just by breathing."

Ranger slid his arms under me and stood us both up, putting me on my feet.

"Get me the ' _special_ ' gun," he ordered Tank.

"You sure?"

"He believes there's room for negotiation in what he's been told. I have to correct that."

Tank studied his best friend's face, gauging the level of his fury, I assume.

" _Ranger_..." I started to say.

"It's alright, Babe," he told me, tugging me closer. "He won't trigger me this time. I'm okay. I want him completely out of your life and he needs to understand exactly what will happen if he doesn't get some help to get right and move on."

"By shooting him?" I asked, feeling sick.

We've come too far for a setback now because of Morelli yet-a-friggin'-again.

Ranger cupped my face in his big hands and pressed the sweetest kiss to my mouth, likely to stop the gnawing I was doing on my lower lip. When he drew back, my tongue automatically made a circle around my lips, desperate to hold onto the taste and feel of him. He's still so close that I saw his eyes dilate at my response to his touch. Unfortunately, now isn't the time for _anything_ enjoyable, since nothing about Joe is.

" _Trust me_ , Stephanie," Ranger said for my ears alone. "I have issues, I won't deny it, but you know better than most that I'm able to control them ninety-five percent of the time. Morelli won't die unless he touches or insults you."

In the process of handing Ranger a Baretta to go with the Glock tucked into his waistband and the knife and other gun hidden where only I see them at night when I can't resist helping him get undressed, Tank drew his hand and the weapon back behind him.

"Given the likelihood of Morelli being a total asshole, I suggest you skip this and stick to using what you already have on you," Tank said to Ranger.

"I'll be fine with this ... _unless_ he forces a mind-change."

Tank shrugged. "We got your six either way."

"You can stay ..." Ranger began, as he turned to me.

I was already shaking my head. " _DO NOT_ tell me I can stay here. There is _No Way_ I'm doing that. In fact, I'd prefer _you_ wait here while _I_ go get rid of the jerk."

" _No_ ," was the response I heard not only from Ranger, but also from every one of our guys as they started filing out of my little office.

I moved my ass and hooked an arm around Ranger's waist while we all took the stairs to the lobby. The five flights were like a precursor to the activity we're likely about to engage in. I was half-terrified, and way more than half-proud as hell of my Ranger. But I just _loved_ the hell out of him when he dropped a muscly arm across my shoulders. We're in this together ... partners for life and in this fight.

Without Ranger saying it, I know he sees this as a redo for what happened at my old apartment building. Our life has changed so dramatically and quite happily after that, Ranger's homecoming felt like it happened a lifetime ago. And damn it if I don't love life more than I ever thought possible after he _did_ make it home to me.

Not knowing exactly how this will go, Cal and Lester joined Tank, Bobby, Hal, Ranger, and I, on the way down. Apparently, all we had to do was appear in order to make Joe stop his SUV on his fourth turn around my Rangeman neighborhood. He can't get onto our property without being okay'd, so he resorted to just circling it like a vulture.

Ranger is in full Special Forces-mode and it seemed like nothing could or would rattle him. I can't decide if that calmed me down or scared me even more as Joe parked at the curb and sauntered over to the locked security gate that protects our building and our people from assholes like him. His face is still a bit of a mess, but the bruises had faded everywhere except the deep tissue ones along his body, I suspect. The cuts on his face are all scabbed over, almost ready for the scarring process if they were so inclined.

I allowed myself only a two-second mental smile. He's like a walking billboard shouting ... ' _Never piss off a Rangeguy!_ '.

"Why are you here?" Ranger asked him.

"I didn't go through the Police Academy and bust my ass every-fucking-day afterwards just to get fired because of some no-good street thug with a personal vendetta."

"Did you go to the Academy to then turn around and use your _supposed_ power to start stalking the people you were sworn in to protect? Provoking me wasn't the real issue, how you harassed and hurt Stephanie is."

"I didn't do anything except check on her, since you left her again. I stuck around for a few minutes to see how she was doing and maybe remind her what she lost. That's it. I tried to protect her _from you,_ not hurt her."

"And the Oscar goes to ... " I said, possibly with a bit of sarcasm. "Nobody's buying your ' _I was just a concerned friend'_ act, Joe. If that's all you were, you'd still be on the force. Someone besides us see you as an antagonistic and dangerous hothead. And FYI, I didn't _lose_ anything, I gained a whole fucking hell of a lot. And how many times do I have to say it ... Ranger was away doing _his job_ , he didn't leave me by choice. In fact, that morning he was _very_ reluctant to even let me go. But unlike you ... he and I can put other people's _needs_ above our own _wants_ , no matter how much we'd like to be together every minute of everyday."

"No shit Ranger didn't want to leave you, since he came home and married you hours later," Tank said to me.

I don't know if that was just a jab to piss off Joe, or if he was reminding me that I've always been Ranger's priority ... right up there with serving his country and protecting his men.

"What can I say?" I replied. "I work fast."

"That you do, Babe," Ranger said kissing my temple, which was conveniently located right near his lips.

Aside from continuing sleep issues, unexpected startles, moments of totally zoning out as a memory or mood hit him, and some tense moments in crowded places or in traffic when he feels too confined - or his movements too restricted - by people and places he hasn't personally 'cleared', I could almost forget all that has gone on. But I _can't_ forget anymore than Ranger can, so I'm sticking close no matter how controlled he is right now. I know better than anyone how easily Morelli can push a button and then spend hours holding it down just for fun.

"Cut the 'happy couple' shit. I'm not here for the _show_. I'm not losing everything I worked for ..."

"You already have," Ranger reminded Joe.

"I know you're not familiar with what they are, but the rest of us understand what these things called _consequences_ are," I said to Morelli, trying not to react to the snickers I heard coming from Lester and Bobby. "You once said I ' _wasn't worth it_ ', so it's interesting that talking to me was more important than shutting your pie-hole long enough to use your pea-brain and realize that touching me or goading Ranger isn't worth flushing your entire career down the toilet. Even your thick head should've been able to figure out that Ranger doesn't let certain things slide ... _ever_ , especially when he just returned from dealing with assholes worse than you could ever dream of being."

"I told you then, and I'll repeat it now," Morelli ground out, " _he's_ not safe to be around. I proved that. If he was willing to kill me just for talking to you, the residents of Trenton should be outraged that he's walking around free, ready to attack again."

"Cut the melodramatic crap, Joe. The only one in danger was/ _is still_ you. I'm sure the image of Ranger and I is imprinted on your brain and that's why you're still obsessing about us, so you damn well know my voice alone immediately calmed Ranger down. How just _me_ holding onto _him_ kept _you_ alive. _I'm_ his lifeline ... like he's always been the _only one_ I depend on. You should be thanking everybody's lucky stars that he and I love each other so much or right now you'd be under the ground Bob pees on."

"Killing a cop is what crazy people get locked up for, Cupcake."

This time I let my smile come out and play. "First off, I believe you came here pissed _because_ you're _not_ a cop anymore. Secondly, Ranger wasn't crazy then and he isn't now. _You're_ the one the public should be scared of if you're willing to let your pride and big mouth take precedence over the law. And let's not forget you're penchant for provoking our Military Members, which in case you've forgotten, they make up almost ninety percent of Rangeman. So if we go by your screwy 'logic', and my guys are the deranged monsters you keep implying that they are, almost all the men behind me would've taken a turn at killing you just because you showed up and are causing a scene yet again. I guess we just _dis_ proved your theory. The only one out of control is _you_."

"You moonlighting as a defense attorney?" Lester asked, his grin full of pride. "I'd let you defend me anyday."

"Thank you, but you won't need a lawyer anytime soon," I assured him. I cut my eyes back to Joe. "You, however, should start looking for one ... now that you've moved onto harassing, stalking, and choking, residents. _That's_ why Tank and Juniak had a sit-down with a few higher-ups to put you in your place badge-wise, which ended in a unanimous decision that you don't deserve to wear one. Eddie, Carl, and Big Dog, are better cops and better men over all, than you'll ever be. They deserve the kind of praise you demand for yourself. As for Ranger and the guys, they're who and what you - and every other male - should aspire to be. They brush off kudos even though they wake up every morning determined to make Trenton a better/safer ... and okay I'll say it ... also a _sexier_ place, since _real men_ are few and far between around here. You shouldn't be allowed to breathe the same air as any one of them is my humble opinion."

I don't have to defend my husband to _anyone_ , least of all Morelli, but Ranger should know I'll always step up to protect him, even when he doesn't need me to. The guys, too.

" _No one_ touches or hurts what's mine and gets away with it," Ranger re-warned him, being a supportive husband by letting me blow off some steam first before he dealt the final blow. "Instead of wasting time bitching about what _you_ threw away out of spite, you should be thinking about how lucky you are that you're not dead two times over ... _three_ times if you count casing our neighborhood today."

"That's exactly the point I was making to the chief. You're clearly an unhinged psycho seconds away from snapping and killing anyone in your path. And Cupcake's not _your_ anything ..."

"The hell I'm not, Morelli! I'm _Ranger's_ wife, not any kind of food item. I have his heart, his tags, and his rings. They aren't coming off me ... _ever_. Deal with it. You know, I'm thinking this isn't even about me anymore. Ranger will _always_ outsmart, outmaneuver, and out-man, you. And _that's_ what has been chafing your ass, isn't it? You were the Burg big fish until I attracted Ranger's attention. And by me finding him irresistible, he stuck around and became the one everyone idolized and wanted to be around ... me included."

Now _I'm_ the one having a flashback to how full of rage I'd been the last time I had a confrontation with Morelli in a parking lot.

"You lost your job because YOU acted unprofessionally. That's on you," I couldn't help but point out. "That my guys felt you needed a reminder to stop being an asshole, was your own fucking fault. You let your grudge against me and your jealousy towards Ranger affect your ability to do the job you promised to. Those were _personal_ choices that ruined you _professionally_. You have no business blaming anyone but yourself for the temper tantrum you threw. I'm not about to let you accuse my husband, or any of our friends, of fucking up your life when you're the one who screwed yourself. If you thought I was 'impossible' before, you'd better buckle up, Buttercup, because you ain't seen _nothing_ yet."

Morelli took a step towards the gate, as if he were going to grab me again … apparently not liking being the one provoked. And before I knew what was happening ... Ranger fired his Baretta and stopped Joe in his tracks. My hubby, likely worried about my reaction to what I'd see if I weren't briefed ahead of time, filled me in on the way down here that this 'special' firearm he told Tank to get him, is one they use to train new Rangeman employees. Nothing is a faster teacher than seeing how quickly you could have just been shot dead.

As we did back in Deal minus Bones ... Ranger, Tank, Bobby, Lester, Cal, Hal, and I, all watched t-shirt material take on a red stain. Thankfully, this time around it's only _fake_ blood ... and the dye isn't on any of them. Not that Morelli doesn't deserve to lose a pint or two of the real stuff for what he's put us all through.

"Consider this my warning shot, Morelli," Ranger said to an ironically _bloodless_ Morelli-face, using a tone I haven't heard since that kitchen fight in the beach house. "You can call me unhinged all you want, but I assure you I know _exactly_ what I'm doing. Your shirt may be ruined from the red dye, but at least you're not dead ... _yet_. If you come near my wife, my men, or my building, again ... next time I guarantee you will be."


	10. Chapter 10

**Big thanks once again to my amazing "Research Department". Being allowed to incorporate your thoughts, comments, and stories, has definitely made this a better one. A special shout-out to the five who gave me permission to 'steal' their tattoo idea and use it here. You are** _ **the best!**_ **All familiar characters and events belong to Janet. The mistakes are mine alone.**

 **Chapter 10**

 **Ranger's POV**

Being obsessive about my own safety, and even more so of those I care about, made proving what a threat Morelli is to my wife laughably easy. I had audio, visual, and eyewitness accounts, of how drawn he is to my property and my woman. Although I took precautions to prevent any further interactions between Stephanie and the asshole, she purposely got the final nail in his coffin on a dash cam when he tried to corner her at a gas station as she stopped to fill her tank. His brain cells must be dying at a rapid rate because doing so proved our case that he _is_ in fact stalking her like the predator he is. It also shows how he's lacking as a man, hoping to catch her at a time I wouldn't be around to put a bullet in him.

Her other Tank was her tail that day, now that her having backup is no longer an option ... it's a requirement. Knowing that _I'm_ the subject to get her reacting the fastest, Morelli quickly started in with the usual ... that shooting him with a dye-gun shows that I'm crazy and even more of a loose cannon than before. And because she's sticking closer to home _and_ to me - her choice, my gain - to him means I'm the one trying to control her. His newest taunt after Steph severed his balls with my service record, is that I'm just a hired killer ... not the peacekeeper he claimed to be from his time spent on a boat fucking off. I know many Navy men, and I like and respect them all, but Morelli will never measure up to or be among them. He got the reaction he had hoped for from Stephanie, but also kissed his own ass goodbye.

" _It's a little ironic ... and also sad, not to mention pathetic, that you didn't mind Ranger and the guys being armed and at the ready whenever they 'volunteer' to go to war time and time again while your ass chills out at home, complaining to your mommy that she used too much starch in your underwear again and dropped off vanilla ice cream instead of the chocolate you'd asked for,_ " she had told him. " _But when my guys are back home, doing your job here too, you suddenly have a problem with how well-trained they all are."_

I know exactly what she had said that afternoon, because she'd had her cell in her hand and had linked it to me before confronting the bastard. We've become all about evidence, and we already had more than we needed to have gotten a judge to rule him as unhinged and potentially dangerous to more than just my wife even though _we_ received the restraining order against him, so I knew that Stephanie's words were said for my benefit ... trying to tell me in her own way that if anyone talks shit about me, she _will_ stop them and thoroughly enjoy the process.

I don't need her to defend me to anyone, but my soul repairs itself a little more every time she does. I can't be a piece of shit thug or a man who's emotionless as a robot if someone like her loves me so passionately.

Needless to say, Tank and Hector had materialized at Steph's sides and Morelli had felt far less brave, though he should know by now just how dangerous my wife is. I hire who I do for a number of reasons, to give men similar to me a second chance at a productive and meaningful life like I had to fight for, but also for the reputations that proceed them and the street cred they've earned the hard way. If Hector fingers a knife in front of you, you know to run like hell or he may decide not to be so gentle with your digits when he gets his hands and knife on them. And if Tank's normally blank expression turns icily-amused, it's best to get your head and your heart more than 300 meters away from him.

Once Morelli had turned pussy and ran home to mommy, Steph and my men stopped in at Juniak's office where I was set to meet them. I cut a call to McCurry short just to haul ass across town.

" _If the city and the police department don't keep him permanently away from my wife_ ," I had told Juniak, and the police chief that I'd requested be there, _"I'm going to ... and I guarantee you won't approve of how I do it."_

" _He didn't bother me_ ," Steph had said, " _just annoyed me. I've been through worse, putting him in his place and bragging about what an impressive man my husband, is isn't a problem. You could call it my new hobby."_

" _This is nothing to joke about, Babe. You've suffered too much as it is, you shouldn't have to see his face every time you're away from me."_

She had nudged me with her hip. " _Guess you'll just have to stick to me like sugar on a jelly doughnut_."

" _You may not want to suggest that because I can - and I will - arrange it so I have even more time with you. But he shouldn't be a factor in your life anymore ... in our life." I turned to Juniak. "You have the day to do something, or I'll handle it myself_."

I've had to decide who lives and who's going to die in the blink of an eye and the squeeze of my trigger finger. And in my mind ... Morelli has outlived his usefulness on the force before Tank got him axed, to the extent of wasting company time on personal vendettas. He had been a liability to the TPD, but now he's threat to the entire Burg. Between Eddie on the Burg-end and Juniak on the bureaucratic side, keeping tabs on him placed Morelli under the type of microscope only Stephanie has experienced. His badge and that method of controlling him is already gone, but if he gets arrested by breaking a court order, his mommy will feel it as his entire family becomes criticized and ostracized by those who'd put them on a pedestal for outliving the bastard the senior Morelli had been. Joe knows whatever he does will now be watched 24/7, and if he fucks up ... he won't be the only one wading through the fallout from it.

According to the Chief, if he doesn't stay more than eight - not the typical one-hundred - feet away from my woman, he will be immediately picked up and locked up right beside criminals like he'd once arrested, not the safest place for a cocky ex-cop. And that's the _lesser_ of two evils, me being the other. He knows if I have to pay him a visit at his place because he refuses to accept that my wife should no longer take up space in his fucked-up mind, his family will be steam-cleaning brain matter out of his carpet and will need some bleach for the walls.

To keep my skills from getting rusty, I did a little stalking of my own with one or three of my men showing up wherever he is, to keep my threat feeling like a very real promise. He likes to 'warn' people that I'm a ticking time bomb, but he's the one who's going to blow. If he wants to believe my ongoing military career has made me homicidal or at the very least unstable, it'd be a shame to disappoint him by letting an enemy walk knowing he's only going to cause more harm.

I do prefer brute force, but as Steph said, psychological warfare can be a fun way to pass the time. Seeing a red dot trained on you, seemingly out of nowhere and at completely random times, has a way of keeping your own mortality, and what will happen to you if you break the laws you're ordered to adhere to now, at the forefront of your mind every minute of every day. It's hard to think about what Stephanie is doing when you're busy worrying if that pizza you just ate is actually your last.

With my and the State of New Jersey's interference, he became less of a concern, while Stephanie's family continued to fuck with her head. But she had hit her limit not long after we returned home from Deal. She hung up on her mother and didn't answer any of her calls again. My wife deciding she needs to keep a close eye on me, gave her a freedom she has never had before. Edna, Valerie, and Steph's nieces are welcome and _encouraged_ to visit Rangeman, but Helen and Frank were set aside - and apart from our family - the same way Stephanie had been in their minds.

Overall, despite all the shit it took to get here, and the wounds we've all suffered along the way, visible and invisible, I've never been more content with my life and glad that I've survived everything I've had to in order to get to finally enjoy it. I learned that although Mike and Little Bear, as well as Sgts. Kendrick and Gary's, recoveries haven't been easy and are far from over, the mission we all came home from can be considered a success. I'm proud to have led the rescue, but not being over there to have prevented our Soldiers from being taken, and not sparing Mike and L.B. the new life they're having to adjust to, will continue to eat a hole through me if I don't actively stop it, no matter who I've talked to about them. But at least I haven't broken any heads or furniture since we arrived back Trenton. Only Tank knows how great a concern that was for me.

But Stephanie can now sense the moment my mood turns darker, and she's been amazing in trying to head those thoughts off before they have a chance to fully take over.

"How are you doing, Batman?" She asked me now, sticking her head in my office on seven.

"I'm fine, Steph. We've been home for awhile, you really can stop worrying."

"It's one thing I'm really good at, why would I give it up?"

"Because it isn't good _for you_ to always be concerned about _me_."

"I think you're wrong. It must be good for me, because I keep doing it. You not only spend everyday saving and protecting people, you continue to beat yourself up over not doing it fast enough. I can tell you've been thinking about Mike and the guys again by that particular way your jaw clenches. If you have to drag this through the day with you when you literally did _everything_ you could, it's only fair that I try to ease some of the weight by helping you any way I can, whether it be by just listening to what you need to share or counting stars with you on the roof of the building when you can't sleep. Unless you want to let the guilt go to lessen mine?"

"You fight dirty, Babe."

"Not really. I just want to stop you from hurting yourself so much."

Her eyes quickly darted away and then came back to me as if she hadn't been avoiding my gaze. My instincts started screaming.

"What are you up to?" I asked her.

"I know you and the unknown don't mix, but I wasn't sure if you'd get mad at me for trying to help you in my own way, so I've been putting off mentioning this."

"I may not have been comfortable with some of the risks you've taken in the past, because you put yourself in harm's way, but I've never been mad at you."

She came all the way into the room and sat on the corner of my desk. One major reason why I always keep the top of it clear.

"Nice try, but when I went investigating and almost got trapped in that set-to-blow warehouse mixed up in the Petiack case, you were definitely mad at me. _Pissed as hell_ would be a more accurate description if I go by how my usual neck tingle felt more like a stun gun _zap_."

"Did you think I would be happy seeing that you were clearly injured and had come seconds away from dying?"

"Nope. That's why I was hoping I could get home without anyone knowing what happened, but I opened my door and there you were."

"I know everything, especially when it comes to you. Would we be here, admittedly in love and finally married, if you would have died that day?" I asked.

That's another close call that has kept me ceiling-gazing at night.

"No. I would've died knowing that you love me, but without having told you what you mean to me and what I'd really do for you if given the chance."

"Knowing what I do now wouldn't have made me rest any easier. Just the opposite in fact. I would've reacted far more viciously than I had in Deal if I'd had you and almost lost you."

"As bad as it sounds, knowing that has actually changed my life. I'm now afraid to do anything that would put me in danger just so I don't hurt you more."

"Good. That makes what I've gone through worthwhile then, if it means you've realized you need to take more precautions."

"I _am_ more careful, but you shouldn't have had to suffer just for it to suddenly dawn on me that I should've stopped taking all the chances I did before I took them. Spite, bragging rights because I solved what no one else could, or just to stick it to everybody who refused to take me seriously, wasn't worth my life."

"You should have acted more cautiously, but because people need you in their lives, not just to spare me more pain."

"Heck, I'd happily give up all my crazy schemes and capture techniques if it means you can sleep through the night with no nightmares."

"I'd prefer you keep yourself safe because you understand how much I, my men, and my family, need you," I told her, wanting her to see her own worth and how positively she has impacted those around her.

"I do have pretty good self-preservation instincts, but they get heightened when I'm trying to protect someone other than myself," she admitted.

"That has to change, but your need to help others does figure into me protecting you, because if you're safe ... more people stay alive."

"Sure they do."

"It's true, whether you're protecting them from a skip or you're preventing me from killing someone who hurts you. What's so funny?" I asked, when I saw her lips curve upwards.

"Not funny exactly, more ironic."

"Care to share?"

"Always. I spent my entire life up until you being accused of upsetting people, that I force them to worry, are always making them angry, or my favorite ... I cause ulcers. Yet _I'm_ the _only_ person on the planet that can relax the Master of Control on the very rare times you need outside help to calm down."

"It's proof that you make me whole. Admit it, a piece was always missing from both of us when we weren't together like this."

She hopped off my desk and onto me. She then held up her right hand for me to see the heart ring she hasn't removed since the day I put it there to make room for her engagement ring and immediately after ... her wedding band.

"It's just like my heart ring. When you were gone, I had your heart here with me. And now it can complete your tag anytime. Hmmm, maybe we should ask Hector if there's a way to take the heart off the band and fuse it back into place on your dog tag so you'll always be complete."

I glanced at the hand and the ring she was referring to, but picked up her left one and kissed the knuckle of her ring finger above the rings I gave her. "No need for that. I like staking claim on both of your hands. And these rings and _you_ have kept me feeling whole. And while we're on the subject, what are you afraid to tell me?"

She went still until I put my arms around her and urged her to relax into me. I stayed quiet which always prompts everyone except Tank, who possesses the same skill, to immediately spill their guts.

She sighed first, but then started to share. "I sorta asked Tank if he'd let me contact the two Soldiers you rescued. I thought if you saw them, not just the reports you get and phone checks you do on them, you'd stop blaming yourself for something that was completely out of your control."

"I'm serious, Stephanie. People pay me to watch out for _them_ , _not_ the other way around."

"Sorry. You wanted me, and you have me ... plus all my annoying habits. And my butting-in is always free, you don't have to pay anything for it. I can't stop wanting to care for you anymore than you can stop protecting me."

She tipped her head back to meet my eyes, linking her fingers through mine that had found a resting spot on her hip. Just her touching me had 'mad' the last thing I felt.

"What do you think we should do about that?" I asked her.

"Funny you should ask, because I sorta planned something."

"What have I said about surprises?"

She leaned forward and kissed my mouth. "You hate them, but this is a _good_ one. I hope anyway. I see how your shoulders untense whenever we visit the Gonzoloz family, so I took a cue from that."

Every time I see Mike ... him talking quietly with Mia, when he's able to get out of his bed and not shy away from the altered body he has now, and hearing him try to remain positive despite both of us identifying it as frustration lacing his voice, helps put a new image of him in my mind. And it slows the return of the one I'd had of him when he was bleeding, broken, and in immense pain while trying to process a huge psychological blow because I didn't pull him back fast enough. The guilt took leave for a few seconds when Mike tried out his first joke about the impending prosthetic phase of his recovery.

" _People should pity those fuckers instead of me,"_ he had told me, determined to picture a life beyond hospital walls _. "When I get out of here, I'm going to be even deadlier since part of my body will be indestructible ... while every inch of them are still vulnerable_."

" _They don't stand a fucking chance_ ," I had replied.

I noticed that he waited until Mia had left the room for a minute to say that, not wanting her to worry about a potential return to 'the field'.

"I won't untense until I know what you did with that information," I said to Stephanie, coming back to our present conversation.

"Tank would've ignored me or immediately ratted me out if he didn't believe I'd be more of a help than a threat to the guys. He won't say it, but I'm telling myself that he believes I'd complement the groundwork you've already laid to get the two Sergeants to a different kind of safety."

"I don't doubt you will, considering how you've been there for all the men here. And even at the most explosive time in your life, no one saw you as a threat, Steph."

" _You_ did."

"But for a whole other reason. I'd had my life arranged like a chess board, where each move I made was fully calculated before being executed. You entering my life didn't just open a new door for me to walk through, you blew out an entire fucking wall."

She grinned, clearly proud of herself. "I did good."

I kissed the smile she's sporting. "You did."

"And I did good again. At least I think I did. When I asked Tank about Kendrick and Gary, he warned me to tread lightly because both have been having a tough time."

"Nobody can blame them. They endured what no one should. Getting them home didn't keep the dangers away from them, only brought on new ones."

"You've all suffered."

"To varying degrees. You yourself know how traumatic it is to be kidnapped, held hostage, and tortured. And how it leaves a mark on more than your body."

I saw her rub the scar caused by the burn Abruzzi gave her. "What happened to me isn't anywhere close to being taken by terrorists in the middle of a war."

"Alright ... let's go back further. To a little girl ... living in your parents' house, trying to survive intact the blatant emotional neglect, constant criticism, and the knowledge that you were completely on your own when it came to you being protected, could've felt like a hostage situation up until you were old enough to leave for college."

"You forget that I had Grandma Mazur and her house to escape to. I've always known she loves me."

"Kendrick and Gary got free from captivity themselves ..."

"With your help," she reminded me.

"Along with Gonzoloz, L.B., Sosa, and McCurry's. My point is … you can survive the unthinkable, even multiple rounds of it, but once it's happened ... you can never go back to how you once were. Yes, Edna gave you a refuge, but that doesn't wipe out the lasting damage your parents did to you before and after you were in your grandmother's care. Why do you think you couldn't tell me that you loved me when you first felt it?"

"I was scared of getting hurt and feeling humiliated if you didn't want the feelings I would've handed you," she admitted.

"You protected yourself because everybody in your life, with the exception of your grandmother and Mary Lou, had taught you to expect pain in place of love."

"Still not the same thing as being a POW."

"Someone has a little more research to do," I told her.

"Maybe, but not today. I'm focusing on people other than me for the moment. And since I try to help not hurt those I care about, I went the email route so your Sergeants could react however they need to, and not have to worry about being nervous or offending me by not answering the phone or answering me at all."

"They'll appreciate your sensitivity concerning them if they ever meet you, which I'd guess is part of what you were hoping to get an answer about."

"They don't call you Mr. Know-it-all for nothing."

" _No one_ calls me that," I told her.

"I refer to you as that to Ella whenever she tells me you nixed my meatball sub lunch-suggestion and then she points me towards something healthy."

"Grilled chicken wraps are just as good."

"Because the c-word makes me really angry now, I'm not calling you crazy for saying anything other than pizza is as good as a meatball sub."

"Not only is it better, it's better for your overall health."

"Not really since biting into a sub releases endorphins inside my brain. Grilled or poached chicken anything just makes me sad that I'm not eating something that actually tastes good."

"Only you, Babe. Now tell me what was in your two emails."

"You know how we're planning to visit Mike, Mia, and their new little bundle of energy, again this weekend?"

"Yes."

"Well, I sent an invitation to both Sgts. Kendrick and Gary and asked if they'd like to join us there. I thought seeing them would make new memories for you, Sosa, and McCurry. And maybe talking to the men who rescued them in a less hostile and stressful environment, and them seeing what Mike was willing to risk just to get them back home, could help Terrance and Emery get through their rough spots. It's hard to feel like life's not worth living if you see how hard people are fighting just to live again, and how they'd swear they'd do it all over again just to get everyone home safe."

I don't want to have to snuff out her spark of hope, but knowing what I do, I have to brace her. "It could also have the opposite outcome. Gary and Kendrick could either blame themselves for what Mike has had to endure ... that if they hadn't been captured, Mike would be home with his wife and daughter right now instead of still needing daily medical care ..."

"Guess you're speaking from experience on that one, since you still believe you could've spared everyone involved what they're recovering from now."

"Those thoughts never go away. You just get better at controlling or handling it. The guilt is bad enough, but there are always more disturbing red flags to watch for."

"Did I do something wrong after all?"

"No. Your reasons are sound ones and come from the best place, but as you've seen just with me ... you have to be prepared for every possibility. You could have a good day ... and the next will feel like it's your last."

"I don't like where this conversation is going, but what do _we_ have to watch for?"

"These signs won't be made visible unless you somehow immediately talk them into joining Rangeman when you meet them so we can keep watch over them well into the night."

" _If_ I meet them. I haven't heard a yes or a no from either one yet."

"When you can barely get to sleep or out of bed some days, checking your emails doesn't feel like a priority."

"I know, but it felt less intrusive than calling them totally out of the blue. So ... what if I can't talk them into becoming RangeMen?"

"Seeing that Mike is getting up everyday wanting to live even though he'll never be the same, and witnessing Sosa and McCurry being able to keep their shit together around the Gonzoloz family enough to laugh and joke about the stupid shit in life, could have Emery and Terrance feeling worse about themselves. They likely have been told that they look 'alright' physically, and they'll believe that their minds should match people's perceptions of what 'alright' is, when in reality ... they still find it almost impossible to get through everyday even without needing all the surgeries and physical therapy Mike has had just so he can eventually walk again."

"You're talking about them completely giving up, aren't you?" Steph asked, hating that she had to.

"Yes. Suicide is unfortunately a very real concern for the military community, and especially with these specific Sergeants. That's why I've been keeping extremely close tabs on them. I didn't get them home just to lose them here."

"Did I screw up the relationship you've started to form with them?"

"No. Because if they _do_ come, it'll show that they're still in the fight."

"But if they don't?"

I shrugged. "I'll know to move to house calls instead of sticking to phone and video conversations."

"That worked for me. You kept showing up in my apartment, a lot of the times _in my bedroom .._. and here I am. A Rangewoman who now lives on-site."

"I'd have to use a much different approach than what I implemented with you."

"Yep, because _you_ and meatball subs, I _DON'T_ share."

"Something tells me you're hungry," I replied, glancing at my watch. "You've mentioned food twice now."

I can tell time without checking my watch, just going by Stephanie's stomach. I've seen, kissed, and stroked, every inch of her body, and I _still_ can't figure out where she puts everything she eats. It definitely doesn't hang around the places I pay special attention to.

"I was originally sticking my head in here to ask if you'd want to have dinner out with me tonight, but I got distracted."

"Which is why you should always tell me things as soon as they happen."

"I'll start that ASAP, so I guess I should also tell you that Ella, Mia, and I, have been talking ..."

"Is this part of your 'surprise' meeting this weekend?" I asked her, already knowing the answer by the way her body responded.

"In one way, but in another ... it's sorta separate."

" _Explain_."

"Yes, Sir."

I squeezed my arms and caught her upper half between my biceps. "Feeling playful, Babe?"

"A little. And I'm sure I'll feel even more playful later on tonight."

"Is that a promise or a threat?" I dropped an octave in my voice in order to ask.

"A little of both, so you may want to factor that into your dinner choice."

"Duly noted. What did you, Ella, and Mike's wife, plan?"

"You know how Ella loves to make people happy via their stomachs?"

"Yes."

"And you know how great Sosa and McCurry, and the hospital staff, have been to Mia and Mike, before and after their family jumped from just the two of them ... to now having L.B. and baby Kira?"

I can almost predict what she's about to admit. "Yeah," I responded.

"And you get just how much I appreciate all of your guys ... here, the ones who keep us safe elsewhere, and the two who played a part in getting you back to me?"

"You and Ella planned a party for everyone?" I guessed.

"Yup, for our guys, your guys, and anyone at the hospital who'd like some food and company this Saturday. Mia did some asking around, and with one mention of _you_ we were given permission to throw a very low-key morale party for everyone who needs a slight boost in it. You and our Rangeguys have said working with each other helps, knowing that the guy next to you gets what you're going through. And I thought the current patients being able to interact with our guys would do some good, but in a casual _no one's life is on the line_ way. I understand that if the Sergeants decide to come, they likely won't want to be involved in something ... chaotic, so soothing is the 'theme' we're going with."

"You're like a one-woman support group."

"As you like teasing me about, I _have_ been doing some informal research. I'd do anything for you and my friends, even read a bunch of stuff I hadn't given enough thought to before so I can be prepared to hopefully not need to be. Would you like to hear what Ella and I, plus Mia, have been planning over a dinner out? I'm craving Beef Bourguignon and a Chocolate Souffle, and I don't want to subject Ella to any more work."

"You could offend her by not asking," I pointed out.

"I'll risk it. You up for a date with me?"

"The only thing I would enjoy more is revisiting your promise/threat from earlier in our conversation," I said, standing us both up.

"My advice would be to carb-load just so you'll be able to keep up with me."

She took my hand and pulled me into the bedroom so I could switch out my work and home weapons for those more suitable for possible interaction with the general public.

That night was memorable in a way that made me not want to forget a single moment of it. And I know the one she's planning for the weekend will be the same.

"Okay ... I think I'm finally ready to go," she told me, after downing a quick breakfast on Saturday morning and using up the rest of the time getting dressed.

"Are you nervous?" I asked her, not that I needed to.

She had started off by putting on a simple white sweater dress, looking to me like the angel she is. In her mind, she's likely thinking of how she can appear the least threatening to people expecting to come face to face with evil at every turn, like she had when choosing the dress that became her wedding dress. But she quickly peeled off the white dress and flung it onto the middle our bed. In her crosshairs next were her favorite dark-washed jeans and a red t-shirt, adding her Chucks to finish off her ' _I come in peace_ ' look. But with another frustrated breath, those were all removed with even more force.

In the end, she seemed moderately satisfied with a pair of fitted black dress pants, her go-to black heels, and a simple button down silk shirt the same blue as her eyes. The dog tags I had given to her in what feels like another life, have been tucked into the slight V the collar made, only the ball chain visible. Getting to watch her get ready for the day many times now, I could guess what she wants to tell people with her appearance ... that she sees this gathering as a special occasion, but she wants the atmosphere to be relaxed so everyone will feel at ease.

"Yup. I'm beyond nervous," she answered. "What if only Mike and Mia and our guys show up?"

"Then Mike and my men will get the 'thank you' they all deserve. All you can do is try, Babe. You can't force people to be how you want them to be. You can only be there to support them as they find their way out of their heads. As long as Mike, L.B., and Gary and Kendrick, and of course Sosa and McCurry, are okay ... that is all that's important."

"To _you_ maybe, but _you're_ extremely important to _me,_ and I don't want to have just made your job harder than it already is."

"You haven't. And as I've said, I stay prepared for every possibility ... good, bad, or even worse."

"Good to know, because I'm only prepared for specific things with people I know well. Thanking complete strangers for what they've sacrificed in the name of freedom during the gore of war, plus not wanting to upset men who I'd really like to see become members of our Rangefamily whether or not they remain active duty guys, I don't mind saying scares the shit out of me."

"It shouldn't. If you realized how easy you are to love, you'd stop worrying about who will."

She turned and pressed herself to me. "Thank you."

I bent my head and used considerable restraint so I wouldn't kiss all of her lipstick off. "You watch out for me, and I've got you. That was our deal."

"That's the one I signed on for," she told me, "but I got way more from you than that. Did Tank call while I was freaking out over clothes?"

"Yes. He's set to head out whenever we are."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course he is. All you guys have to do is take a five minute shower and put on a dressier version of your all-black uniforms ... and you're good to go. It's really not fair."

"What's not fair is you looking the way you do and making me leave the apartment with you."

She kissed me this time in a way that let me know she had used non-smudging lip color. "Thanks. That helps, since I used up all my time getting dressed and don't have enough left over to spend worrying. I'm hoping for the best and almost prepared for the worst. Plus, I want to check out how everything got set up before any guest sees it."

"I hope you, Ella, and those she hired to help, remembered that this is a hospital."

She took a step back and smiled. "We had to. It needed _a lot_ of cheering up and plenty of stuff to offset the ' _No one wants to have to be a patient_ ' vibe it has going."

I'm proud of her, but also mildly concerned that I may have to cover damages caused by excess enthusiasm in this case.

If anything, I should know not to be worried about what Steph does these days. She's changed almost as much as I have. She settled down as I was wound up. And I have to admit, I'm impressed with what she did pull off. With the purposely neutral color scheme and sterile feel of the building, the women still made the usually austere auditorium we were cleared to take over, feel as warm as my family's living room ... or an upscale hotel lobby given its size.

Loveseats and settees were brought in for those who can't stand up or can't manage it for long periods of time. Tables of varying heights were placed so they wouldn't remind anyone of overbed tables, and there are standing stations created near taller tables. All are covered in champagne-colored linen tablecloths and then topped with smaller cream-colored ones.

There are no balloons to pose as distractions or as possible targets, no loud music to annoy residents who need peace and quiet to recover or just prefer to be left alone in this stage of their recovery. Upholstered chairs replaced the standard dining-style ones so comfort would remain at a high, and the lighting was kept at a minimum for those with TBIs who are sensitive to light as well as scents and noise. Everything's spaced so wheelchairs can pass easily through the entire auditorium. And if being that mobile isn't an option, gurneys can also be wheeled in so those confined to them for the moment won't be left out or feel like their presence is being ignored.

My wife also requested that patients be asked if they'd like 'to place an order' if they don't feel comfortable leaving the safety of their rooms, yet wanted something different than what they're usually served to eat. Mike had told me mid-week that a 'survey' had been passed around the place so everyone getting or giving the care here could contribute to what food would be made. At that point, my mother wanted in to help Ella out and they quickly came up with a menu that would make everybody who can eat happy.

If it were possible to combine the serene environment of a spa and the luxury of a corporate fundraising event ... Steph, Ella, and Mia, had managed it. Once trays of appetizers were starting to be put out, my concern returned.

"I'm not surprised you and Ella want to feed whoever comes in, but you don't think the number of choices and amount of food is excessive?" I asked my wife.

"Nope. Nothing's too good for anybody here. If they're up to trying everything or eating seconds and thirds of it ... they _are_ going to get them."

What made me love her more is that she meant it. Mike found that out for himself when he was given a private sampling in his room. No words were said as he and I exchanged our typical 'guy hug', Steph's phrase not mine, for a handshake that goes into a one-arm curl that requires at least two back or shoulder smacks that sting to those not conditioned for physical affection. I never would have thought to analyze the differences in our greeting compared to hers and Mia's, but I don't have to with Steph around to point them out to us.

"I don't consider myself a kid person," Steph told the Gonzolozs, "but I wouldn't turn this one away."

Kira has whispy brown hair, blue eyes that have turned more green every time we see her, and seems to have a permanent smile between her chubby cheeks. She's definitely in the running as the cutest _baby_ since Julie's well out of that age bracket of the competition.

"She's a cutie alright, but she's not fond of sleeping more than two hours at a time. And I swear she eats more than Mike does," Mia shared. "She's _exactly_ like her father in hating to sit still. I've been having to take her for walks up and down the hall, or keep rocking or swaying her if I want to stay in one place for more than a minute. If those don't work, I haul out Mike's big guns and he does his signature Daddy-move, bouncing her in the cradle his arm makes until she yawns twice and settles into sleep."

"It looks like you've been busy yourself," Gonzoloz commented, glancing pointedly at the tray placed near his bed that Ella instructed be made specifically for him.

"As Ranger will tell you, I tend to get into trouble when I'm left with no adult supervision," Steph replied.

"You haven't stopped receiving my attention or supervision," I pointed out. "It's just now you're not minding being the sole focus of it."

Steph caught Mia's eye. "It's funny what changes when you've spent time not knowing when your guy is going to come home so you can hurry up and marry him."

Mia kissed Kira's tiny hand and smiled. "It puts things into perspective, that's for sure. I had my fears just like everyone else, but as selfish as it may sound, I didn't care _how_ as long as my husband came back to me ... to both of us."

"I lost bitching rights for a good week," Mike added. "It's hard to complain about being in pain when your wife is pushing out a person where logistically one shouldn't fit."

Steph's face lost a little of its color and she quickly handed Kira back to Mia. "Okay, that took care of any baby thoughts I may have had. I'll move onto the dog ones. Where's Little Bear hiding?"

"He had a check-up today," Mia answered. "Mike's mom offered to go with him so I could have more baby/hubby-time."

"I can barely handle Rex, but you've got one heck of a robo-dog, which makes me sorta jealous."

"He may be losing the robotic prospect soon. Mike's always been into high tech stuff, and the discussions we've had to have about prosthetics have only added to it, but while Mike's up to whatever gets his body into ass-kicking mode, I personally think Little Bear will end up doing better without one."

"Whatever the vet says is best for him, we'll do," Mike promised his wife. "And I'll do what's best for me ... for my family."

"I know, baby. You're a man of your word. I've never doubted that."

As always happens when she finds herself in emotional situations, Steph started talking to diffuse her discomfort. "I wanted to adopt L.B., and go ahead and spoil him for the rest of his life, as soon as Ranger told me about him, but ' _someone_ ' decided battle besties need to stay together while they bounce back from their injuries."

"It did help," Mike admitted.

"It was supposed to," I added. "You both needed a partner to be strong for."

"Thank you," Mia said to me. "I've tried to be here for Mike in every way I can, but Kira needs me too. L.B., and of course the dynamic duo formally known as Sosa and McCurry, have been here when I couldn't be. I thought I understood how strong the bond is between you guys, but I couldn't have imagined what I've gotten to see in action."

"I got a dog and a daughter in the span of a few weeks," Gonzoloz said. "I would've been a mess if I didn't have my three to focus on. It's hard to feel sorry for yourself when you have a wife determined to stay with you no matter the shit she has to put up with. And I have daughter now who lights up whenever she hears or sees me. And I was given the chance that few guys get ... to adopt my canine partner without having to come up with the thousands of dollars I would've needed to make that happen. Not only does Little Bear's presence help, he sticks to me when he can like I'm his reason for living, even though I had to be saved right along with him."

"You shouldn't feel sorry for yourself _at all_ ," Steph told him. "Not many can do what you did, and are doing now. It takes major cajones to face the day with a 'Bring it' attitude and then go to sleep every night vowing to do even more tomorrow. It's hard for someone like me to fully understand what you, Ranger, and my Rangeguys, have had to think about and experience, but I'm so grateful to you all for doing what I know I can't."

"Your job is to protect people here at home, Steph. In your own way, you also contribute to ensuring the public's safety."

"Catching a butt-flasher is NOT the same thing as rescuing two men who wouldn't have survived without you."

"It's on a larger scale, but the intentions are the same. You've put yourself on the line for multiple people, my daughter being the most important one."

Steph's face went pink and her eyes rolled over towards Mike and Mia. "Don't mind him. I've been a bit nervous about this party, and Ranger has been trying to compliment the anxiety away."

"You should let him," Mike told her, having my back once again.

She glanced at him. "I know. Instead of flowers and chocolate, I prefer Ranger saying stuff like that to me because I know he means it."

"I do like chocolate, though," Mia added. "A little too much after I got pregnant. Kira's either going to be obsessed with it or totally hate it thanks to me."

"I got some five-star chocolate on our last date-night, along with more compliments," Steph told the room.

"Every relationship is unique," Mia said to her, "but yours sounds a lot like ours. Mike didn't stop trying to woo me even after we were married."

"I was able to take good care of you _before_ ," Mike told her, an edge and regret creeping into his voice, "but not so much lately. You deserve more than you're now stuck with."

" _Do not_ start, Michael. What we have now is exactly like we've always had ... just with a baby, two goofy uncles who hang out here with us almost everyday, and a great hospital staff. Our relationship is like a fairy tale whose ending wasn't cut short with the words _'And they lived happily ever after'_. There are different ways to be happy ... and ours is one of them. And if you argue with me about that, I'm going to withhold Ella's Churro Cream Puffs from you until you admit that I'm right. We may have a few new challenges, but we still have each other … and have the best life because of that."

"Shit. There they go again," McCurry commented, walking into the room. "We leave them alone even for a minute ... and they turn into chick-flick material."

"It's like I said with the _no adult supervision-thing_ ," Steph said with a smile aimed at Mia and Mike.

"Mike and I have been getting picked on mercilessly by these two," Mia shared.

"How so?" My wife asked.

"Their new one has been saying that the only way I'll be going M.I.A. now is if I take Mia and run," Mike answered.

" _Do Not_ say ' _Get it?_ ' again, McCurry," Sosa ordered.

"Go ahead and ask me if I get it," Steph said, "because I think I'm missing something."

"How do you spell Mia's name, Babe?"

"Jeez. I didn't think I'd be entering a spelling bee today, but it's ... M ... i ... a."

" _Get it?_ " McCurry _did_ ask, getting him shoved two feet back by Sosa. "Missing In Action is abbreviated ... MIA. And seeing firsthand how wrapped up Mike is in Mia, spelled the same way, if he goes missing, it'll only be with her."

"They actually called a time out before we officially put Kira's name on paper," Mia told us. "They were against our daughter's name being spelled with the added 'A' that we had planned on. After careful deliberation, Mike and I decided to drop the extra letter and went with the shorter version."

"The letters K.I.A. belong _nowhere_ near this family," Sosa added.

My wife cut her eyes to me. "Unfortunately, I know that abbreviation because it's my deepest fear and worst nightmare, so you don't have to explain it. And I get the don't jinx it-thinking. My guys at Rangeman refused - and _still_ refuse - to allow anyone to call me the 'Bombshell Bounty Hunter', which was part of a headline on a really slow news day. They believe that just a silly nickname will attract an explosion to me. While they protect me by threatening bodily harm to anyone who refers to me as 'Bombshell', I was busy worrying that the name would trigger them if they'd been in or escaped an explosion." Her eyes shot to Mike. "Oh crap. I'm so sorry, Mike. I shouldn't have said that."

"It's alright, Steph," he assured her. "I still have too many bad days, but even on all of those I can admit I was injured in a blast. Speaking as a survivor of one, I can say I understand why Ranger's men will do anything to prevent you from being caught up in one. The results aren't pretty."

"They may not look pretty to some, but they bring major relief to others," Mia told him, purposely letting her hand lightly touch his leg where it now ends. "To me, what results from a trauma just makes me respect even more those who are able to survive them."

"I should've had another cup of coffee before we left this morning," Steph said to me, still feeling like she misspoke.

"It wouldn't have helped you with these guys, Steph," Mia told her. "You know how madly I love my husband, but I'll be the first to admit that he's a handful when he gets going. Now 'McSosa', as I lovingly refer to them now, are really, really great guys and the best friends Mike and I could have, but the two of them have me acting more like a mom than my daughter has so far. Did they tell you what they went out and did last week?"

"I ask again ... what's so wrong with it?" Sosa asked her. "We had a few hours to kill while we were in the area, and we found a good way to fill them."

"What did you guys do?" Steph asked, feeling a little maternal herself, believing they did something to hurt themselves or potentially get each other into some sort of trouble, and neither would make her happy.

I saw the video they made for Mike, and all I felt was fucking proud of them ... and proud to call all three of these men friends. It doesn't take much to say you'll always be there for someone, it's an entirely different type of man, or men in this case, who will go ahead and put in writing the lengths they'll go for you, not only when you're trying to keep each other alive overseas, but continue to care and provide backup here at home.

They've been at Mike's side since Germany, and they've remained with the Gonzoloz family to help Mia, and now amuse a baby or a husband whenever Mia needs to be with one or the other. 'McSosa', as Mia refers to the pair, are now literally Mike's blood brothers, purposely shedding some of their own in his honor.

"We made a tattoo run," McCurry said, downplaying their actions. "It's not a big deal."

"It sure as fuck is a big deal to me," Mike added, still affected by their gesture.

Steph looked confused, so I helped her out. "They got one to pledge their allegiance so to speak."

"To the flag? And how can two men get one tattoo?"

"They found a unique way to state that they're here for whatever Mike needs during his recovery and everyday after it," I told her.

"We each got one, but it's the same design for both tattoos," Sosa explained.

"Can I see them? Or one of them since they're both the same?" My wife asked. "Every other year I think about getting one, but then I remember they're permanent _and_ they hurt."

"Some more than others," I said.

McCurry and Sosa both looked to Mike, letting him make the decision if it's too personal to share with anyone not directly involved who understands the significance and meaning behind them.

"If Steph's interested, and you don't mind showing her, I don't mind either," Mike told him.

"Shit. I'm sorry, Guys. I'm _really_ nosy and I ask questions before thinking," Steph said to the men. "In the past I've been told that I don't need to know everything, but it's something I still have to work on. Just ignore me."

I pulled her close. "You are singularly _unignorable_ , Babe."

She squeezed my waist, but was distracted by McCurry and Sosa suddenly moving around.

"What are you guys doing?" She asked them.

"You wanted to see what we got, right?" Sosa asked her.

"Yeah, but what does that have to do with your boots? Aren't they on your biceps or something? I've learned a lot from our Rangeguys, and one big thing is how they like getting tattoos on muscles they can then show off."

"Been there, already did that," McCurry told her, hitting pause on his actions to roll up his left shirt sleeve, flexing dramatically.

The area from his bicep to his deltoid is tattooed to appear like part of his skin had been ripped away, exposing what was more than skin deep to him, the words to the oath we all took printed in black and gray commandment-style writing.

"Check impressive arm tattoo off the list," Steph said to him.

"If you appreciate that one," Mia said, shifting Kira in her arms so she was sitting up to appear ready for Steph's reaction, "buckle up, Ranger's Babe, because you're about to melt, right Kir-bear?"

Kira's hands moving away from her mouth and straight into fists that she shook enthusiastically, lent added excitement to the moment.

"Have you seen who I'm married to?" Steph bragged. "I think I can handle it."

She talked big, but I know Mia's correct. Steph is a goner. Because I have scars from bullet wounds I've received from racing to her every time she needed me, she knows exactly how hard I've fought for her and the lengths I'll go to keep her alive and loving me. And the men's determination to be there for Mike, she'll see in a similar way and it'll hit her hard.

McCurry and Sosa's left boots were unlaced and toed off, and two socks were peeled away. Steph's head tilted to the side as she bent in half to look more closely at the inside of each arch on both men, and at the new tattoos on each that shot from the inside edge of their heels and straight towards their toes.

"What does M.O.L.F. stand for?" She asked, still staring intently at the feet of the two men.

" _My_... _Other_... _Left_... _Foot_ ," McCurry answered.

"Mike may have lost his, but he knows he'll always have _our_ left feet in its place, along with whatever else we have that can help him with anything he or his family may need," Sosa added.

The colors are ones we all recognize no matter the branch we've served in. A vivid blue background was permanently etched into their skin in the shape of our Special Forces logo, the letters M.O.L.F. were written without apology in blood red striking across the blue, with a gold banner done in a color reminiscent of the eagle on the flagpole flying our flag at the building's entrance, securing the perimeter around their new 'army of three' insignia.

"You must have consumed a considerable amount of alcohol to sit through those without punching something or someone," I said, just to hear the response I'd get.

It's an extremely sensitive part of the body to subject to a tattoo gun. On the opposite end of the pain spectrum, Steph claims her bones dissolve when I apply just the right amount of pressure to that same spot on her body.

Sosa was first up. "Yeah, right. The guy doing them was ready to tap out while we were busy discussing what else to get while we were already there."

I fought a grin. They're full of shit, but they'd die before admitting something hurts.

" _Oh_... _my_... _God_ ," Steph said, blocking out the banter and zeroing in on the depth of emotion behind these tattoos and the dedication to Mike and his family they represent. "That's about the sweetest thing I have ever seen someone do for somebody else. That you _both_ did it, _doubles_ the awe."

"That's what I said," Mia told her, tears of love and gratitude apparent in her eyes, as she and Kira sat on the edge of Mike's bed just to be closer to him.

"I've heard of promise rings," my wife continued, "but 'promise limbs' are on a whole other level of commitment. _Damn_..."

"What?" I asked her, not recognizing the expression that's currently on her face.

"I now think I need a 'A.B.R.B.' tattoo done inside an Army Ranger banner," she surprised me by saying.

"Why those letters?" Mia asked her.

" **A** lways **B** e **R** anger's **B** abe. He's not only my reason for living and breathing, he's the _actual_ reason I stayed alive long enough to marry him."

"Sounds like there's a story there," Sosa said.

Steph shrugged. "More than a few of them actually. You guys have had your 'adventures' and let's just say I've had mine."

"And too many of them were close calls," I replied, not wanting to remember any of them.

"I didn't mean to bring those up. My point is that I'm happy with my rings and your tags on me, but maybe I should've thought about something that can't ever come off. Pledging a body part beats the crap out of my heart ring-declaration, and you deserve that kind of reassurance that I'm always going to be here for you."

"Don't worry, Steph. A divorce is NOT an option for us, so becoming my wife _is_ a permanent move on your part. You're still with me after all you've seen and had to do since I got back, that takes a measure of commitment few will ever be aware of. Every man in this room will tell you that."

She glanced back at the feet now being rebooted. "It's not hard on my part when I'm getting exactly what I want in the end ... which is _you_ in case you were wondering."

"Shit, the sap is contagious," Sosa joked.

"Better watch it, it could infect you next," my wife teased back, as Mia nodded in agreement.

He winked at her. As usual, he remained undaunted by a threat.

Once McCurry had his laces retied, he stood and looked at my wife with new appreciation. "You and Mia are in the minority in appreciating what we did," he told her. "I stopped in to see my mom and kid sister and showed them my new ink while I was there. My sister had a friend over at the time and a little bit later I overheard that friend tell her that mine was the dumbest tattoo she's ever seen."

"That was a fucking mistake on the friend's part, seeing as how Delaney idolizes her big brother," Sosa added. "That friendship bit it even before the ignorance and stupidity behind the comment had a chance to sink in."

McCurry shrugged. "I did it for Mike. I don't give a fuck about anyone else's opinion. _His_ is the only one that matters."

"Mine may not matter," Steph told them, "but if Ranger wasn't looking, I'd hug the hell out of both of you because you're such incredible guys. Mike, too, just for being the kind of friend to inspire this kind of imprinted loyalty."

"Come on over and lay one on me," McCurry said, stretching his arms out wide. "Sosa will try to hold your husband back. It'll take him at least a second to whip out a weapon and shoot me, so move quick."

"I'd trade my foot for Mike's in a heartbeat," Sosa said, "but I ain't trading _my life_ just so _you_ can get a hug from a pretty lady."

"I knew I liked you for a reason," I told him.

"You like me, too," McCurry stated. "You wouldn't request my presence or keep in touch if you didn't."

Steph glanced at Mia. "I see what you mean. I thought I had my hands full with Bobby and Lester, but you win. You must be exhausted from trying to stay sane with these two while also taking care of a baby."

"We've been known to Kira-sit when she and Mike want alone time. That helps," McCurry said.

Mike grinned while Mia turned bright red. " _I can't believe you just said that in front of Stephanie and Ranger!_ " She said in a horrified whisper.

"Hey, I only said ' _alone time_ '. That could mean you and Mike were talking bills or finishing the Sunday crossword together. _You're_ the one who took it to the dirty place."

Mia used Kira's arm to point to the door. " _Out_ ," she ordered, but the smile she gave him contradicted her tone.

"No problem. We've got a party to shake up anyway."

Steph's eyes immediately flew to me. "He's kidding," I promised her, knowing she's still worried about what could or wouldn't happen today.

"L.B. will be getting dropped off anytime now," Mia told us. "We'll be down after he's back with us."

"Alright. If we don't see you there, we'll stop in before we leave," I told Mike, giving him another handshake-hug.

By the end of today, I should know whether or not to tell them that I've already set up an account for Kira, so her needs will be taken care of along with Mike and L.B.'s. Steph likes my body as is, but I do have my own ways of pledging my allegiance to those who have and are currently defending my people and my country.

"Company's here," Tank announced, materializing in front of us before we even took two steps towards the auditorium.

"They came?" Steph asked him.

"Yes. Sgt. Gary just asked for Ranger at the front desk. I showed both him and Sgt. Kendrick to the office we'd requested earlier."

Steph grabbed my hand and the squeeze she gave it brought to mind what Mike likely experienced from Mia as their daughter was being born.

"Relax, Steph," I told her. "Whatever happens, we'll get them through it, but you have to start off in a good mindset first."

"I'm trying. That's why I'm only crushing your hand, not hyperventilating from the nerves that have kicked in again."

Tank and I tried not to smile as I gave a head's up knock to the doorjamb of the office. I recognized the signs that this is a little too overwhelming for them. Both Sgts. Kendrick and Gary are looking far better than when I last saw them, and the fact that they _did_ come today means they took a major step out of the isolation they'd put themselves in, but I know more than anyone that emotional scars hang around even longer than it takes physical wounds to turn into them.

"Just be yourself. Let your instincts guide you and they'll do what we all have ... fall in love with you."

"You're the only one who has done that, but I'll do what I can."

I let her precede me, and both men stood up and saluted.

"At ease," I told them after returning their salutes. "As you likely figured out, this is my wife Stephanie."

"Nice to finally meet you, Ma'am," Sgt. Terrance Gary told her, extending his hand for a polite shake.

Sgt. Emery Kendrick did the same. I noticed that Steph had cringed hearing herself be called ' _Ma'am_ ', but she does know in our world it's a serious sign of respect when used.

"I'm so glad you came," she told them. "Last I heard, you would only commit to saying you were _thinking_ about coming."

"You can thank Terrance for that," Kendrick said. "I wasn't going to until I talked to him."

"You've been through hell," I told him, "it's understandable that you wanted to be alone, but as I've told you numerous times now ... you don't have to be."

I gestured for them to be seated. After they sat as if poised for flight, I tugged Steph down to sit beside me on the loveseat opposite their two corner chairs. As he's been known to do, Tank remained standing by the door ... keeping watch over us all.

"No disrespect, Sir," Kendrick began, "but when I got back home, I just wanted to be left alone so I could pretend that what happened to us ... _didn't_."

"I was the opposite," Gary said, picking up the conversation. "I wanted to talk about it with the only other person who knew what I'd gone through and struggling with the same shit now because of it. I saw him as my _only_ way to get past this, but he wasn't interested in rehashing any part of it."

"I couldn't even help myself ... how the fuck was I going to help him? Pardon our language, Ma'am."

"Don't worry, I swear more than that just trying to get a brush through my hair," my wife said, attempting to give them a reassuring smile. "You two have obviously been talking to each other if you showed up together. What changed?"

"The invite you sent us," Emery admitted. "Terrance called again when he got his email, and didn't hold back this time. He pointed out that I'm not the only one suffering, and that maybe getting together and talking about stuff would help each other, not to mention the guys who got us the fuck out of there. We know too well how sick those bastards were, and it couldn't have been easy finding and reaching us. We saw how many bodies fell between you and where were secured, and then being treated and hearing about what Mike Gonzoloz lost over there. Anyway ..."

He paused for a moment before continuing.

"I've seen and done plenty of shit since my first deployment, but I couldn't take thoughts or memories of any part of this one. Unfortunately, I learned the hard way that blocking it out wasn't working. I'm not proud of it, but I put a gun to my head twice while trying _not_ to think about it."

Steph's eyes filled up and her hand went to her mouth to catch her protest. "Oh god, you didn't."

He nodded, mentally leaving us as he traveled back to the worst moments of his life. "Not only did I feel a shitload of guilt for what happened to Mike, I also couldn't get past the shame I felt."

"You know I don't blame you for anything. The guilt and shame belong solely to those bastards. Despite what was done to us, we got the last laugh because we survived it," Sgt. Gary tried again to tell him.

"It was a scene fresh out of hell, and we both know it." Kendrick turned back to us. "One of the times Terrance got beaten, I closed my eyes to it. Who the fuck pussies out like that? If he was strong enough to take it without breaking, I should've been man enough to not turn away from it ... from him. We vowed to get each other through it, and I didn't keep my promise."

"I didn't know that's why he wasn't returning my calls," Gary added. "My intention was with us both talking it out, we'd be able to get our minds out of there so we can start living in the present again, but I was actually just making him relive the worst parts of it."

"That wasn't your problem," Emery told Terrance. "It was _mine_."

"Wrong. We got captured almost together, were rescued together, and got sent back to the states together. Now we just have to survive being home, and all the 'return to normal' expectations, and we're going to do that together as well."

"If it's possible to."

"It is. It has to be." Terrance turned back to us. "Knowing that we were being invited to a place full of men and women with issues and scars of their own, to sit down with those who received more themselves from getting us out, felt like too big of an opportunity to pass up ... _if_ there's any truth to group therapy helping. I can't say I've acted admirably my entire life, but if I manage to sit with my thoughts for more than a few minutes without shutting them all down ... they tell me I was spared to help others who've been where I was ... where I still am."

"Lucky me," Kendrick said. " _I_ was the first on his list to try to save."

"Please tell me he pulled it off," Steph said to him. "Or at least that he got you seeing that you're important to _a lot_ of people ... especially the guys here I was hoping you'd be open to seeing. My husband and his friends would do anything for complete strangers, but they'll fight to the death for those they have a connection to. That Ranger has kept in touch with you means a whole hell of a lot."

"I've been telling myself that," Kendrick said. "Some days I listen, on others I just turn my phone off again."

"You can see what I was up against," Gary said with a smile _now_ , but Tank and I know what he was feeling when he had tried to help someone, _and_ himself in the process, only to slam into an emotional wall that's heavily guarded and also rigged to blow.

"Everyone has to figure out the best way for them out of their particular darkness, or decide when to ask for help," I reminded them.

"No shit," Emery stated. "Both of them suck."

"But it got you here," Steph added. "Do you think you're up to a little gathering among friends?"

"For the record," I interrupted, "it's not so small, so we'll understand if you'd rather keep to a more contained group and area. We can hang out here or in Mike's room just as well."

"If it'll help in your decision-making, our guys from Rangeman are showing up as we speak, and they run some good interference when you need it. And they're almost as good as Ranger at identifying what someone needs in order to feel better, or better in control of things. Plus, there are plenty of walls to put at your back if you want to get to know people who've been in your boots, yet still need an anchor in order to be able to do it."

"I appreciate the proactive approach," Emery told her. "I'm getting better at not bailing on crowds, but I'm still figuring out what I can handle, what will set me off, and what kind of day I'm going to have because of it. So as long as you don't get offended if I just walk out to avoid making a scene, I'll test it out."

"It's hard to offend me," my wife told him. "And what you just said is far more than what I'd originally hoped for. I asked you to come so I could say thank you in person, not only for putting yourselves on the line in the first place, but also for not giving up after you got home, but I don't want any part of today to feel like a punishment."

"Honestly, I'm honored that you invited," he replied.

" _Ditto_ ," Gary added. "Had you not put this together, I might not have gotten through to Emery. And I can tell you ... we'd both be worse than what you're seeing right now."

"I had just convinced myself that everyone had finally given up on me, since I've spent weeks pushing family and friends away. If I couldn't talk to Terrance about it, I sure as fuck wasn't about to share with people who don't have a fucking clue what we've been through. I'd just started in on believing that I was just an obligation Ranger felt duty bound to 'handle', but I figured his wife wouldn't have gotten involved unless I was more than just part of an unfinished job. So I replied to both you and Terrance minutes apart. I feel like I should thank everyone in this room for not forgetting about me."

"You should be thanking me instead for not sticking my nose in as soon as Ranger got back. I can be really annoying when I'm on a mission. If it makes you feel better, I was close to throwing up this morning, and I almost broke Ranger's hand on the way in here because I was afraid you guys would be angry at me for inserting myself into your lives. It's a habit I can't seem to shake."

"It's one that you _shouldn't_ shake, Steph," I told her.

"I agree," Gary said. "It's too easy sometimes to just sit back and wait and see what happens, when some situations require you to bust a door off its hinges."

His eyes flicked to me, but Stephanie interrupted. "By the way," she whispered conspiratorially, "here's a little piece of advice for when you're ready to get out of hibernation for good, don't try hiding how you feel or those faces of yours. Women are total suckers for hero types like you two."

Kendrick looked away. "We got captured ... nothing heroic about that."

"You're completely wrong there," Steph told him, her voice wrapped in steel. "You had to be wherever you were to have been taken. You were fighting for what you believe in and for people like me who were home busy enjoying our lives while you put yours on the line everyday. And you showed up today to try to help others deal with their pain. That's definitely a hero in my mind."

"She means that. Stephanie never once turned her back on me or turned away from what I brought home with me. She fully accepted my issues _and_ my scars," I said to the men. "And she's not the only one who's open to doing that for us."

"You can't improve on perfection," she told me, "but you can add more character to it. And I've never been happier to get to spend whole days and nights learning more about them and you."

"Promise me you'll repeat that to Sosa later," I told her. "I like seeing him squirm. He doesn't do what he calls 'girly feelings' well."

She grinned and the men relaxed more. They got to witness some reassuringly-normal interplay between us, and they will also get to repeat Steph's words ... whether they believe her now or only five years from now ... that their war wounds are to be appreciated and understood, not ridiculed or feared. They survived what not many can imagine let alone live through, and the reminders of that shouldn't be hidden away so people can pretend that war just happens to someone else _somewhere_ else.

Which is something similar to what I've told Mike. He lived to be a daddy to his daughter and the only husband Mia would ever want, and he should never be ashamed of how he got back to them. He was one of the lucky ones. He got to come home wearing a flag on his sleeve, not lying beneath a draped one.

Both Gary and Kendrick aren't bad looking guys in the _'I've seen some serious shit_ ' way, but it's still apparent that how they've suffered isn't only internal. The physical wounds that had been inflicted on them during their capture and then captivity have faded, but _are_ still visible, certain features looking slightly … _off_. Sgt. Gary is the same height as I am, Kendrick an inch shorter. I know both men have been working out in order to exhaust themselves in addition to their PT exercises issued to get their bodies back to their pre-fractured states. And their dark hair has been left to grow out past regulation in order to cover anything they aren't ready to be questioned about.

"No one's perfect, Steph," I reminded her. "Not even me."

"You're close enough to keep me happy." She stood up, which made every man in the room do the same except Tank who was already on his feet. "We've got food, friends, and a whole other family waiting for you," she told our newest party guests, "both here and in Jersey, but only when you're ready to accept them."

There was a slight hesitation as they both looked to me. "I'll repeat my offer until you believe it's a serious one. There's a place for each of you in my organization whenever you want to claim your position in it," I said to them.

"I might take you up on it," Emery told me. "I hate admitting it, but if I don't have a job to do or someone busting my ass, I can't get myself out of bed. Or on really bad nights, I just skip it entirely … figuring the damage I'll do to myself as I lay there awake will be worse than going without sleep for another day."

"I told you when I first checked in on you," I reminded him, "and I've repeated it in every conversation we've had since, you are _not_ alone. I'm not going to forget about either of you. I will be here for you whether you join Rangeman or stay on the path you've already chosen."

"I'm not forgetting you either," Steph chimed in. "Thanks to Tank here, I have your email addresses. And I'm _not_ afraid to use them."

"Is your wife a threat?" Terrance asked me.

" _Yes_ ," both Tank and I answered.

"A harmless one, though," she added for their benefit.

"Keep thinking that, Babe. We know better."

She slid closer and wrapped both arms around my midsection. This feels like our fighting-stance now ... a united front, locked together until our battle is won.

"We can't thank you enough for our lives, Sir," Kendrick said after a moment of pause. "You could've just left us to die."

"No ... he couldn't," Steph told him. "Ranger fights for anyone who fights for us all. He would've traded himself for you if that had been the only option he'd had. You mattered _then_ , and you matter even more to us now. I should warn you, we'll be standing by you for life now."

"No man left behind," I promise them. "And no thanks are needed. Just your agreement to not give up and that you will call me immediately if that thought crosses either of your minds again, is all that I want."

"Don't pressure them, Ranger," Steph teased. "Just enjoying themselves today is enough for right now."

I can't disagree with her. Seeing them alive and recovering is all the thanks I'll ever need. What could be called heroic by some, I consider just doing what's right. Steph kept an arm around me, and tried to maneuver everyone else out with us towards Ella's culinary offerings.

We saw that Mike and Mia had a small group gathered around them, not only because he's the type of guy people flock to, but also due to him holding an adorable baby girl wearing a ruffled party dress bigger than she is. It didn't hurt that Little Bear was sitting at their side. Although he has only three of his legs, he's having a far easier time adapting to the changes to his body than Mike is. While he stayed glued to his partner, he wagged his tail whenever someone that he deemed safe approached his family. He even made the appropriate 'puppy eyes' at me, followed by what I'd call a canine eyeroll, when Stephanie got down to his level, whispered something mid scratch into his upright ear, and then turned to raise her eyebrows at me.

I can guess what she said to him, so I answered Emery's question about what services Rangeman provides and to who, and then I shook my head at my wife ... sensing a dognapping plan was partially formed in her mind. I scanned the auditorium and felt proud of my people and especially of my wife. It took a little time for the party to get started, but ten minutes after the doors opened, patients ... in gurneys, wheelchairs, using crutches, or just standing with their heads or sections of their bodies bandaged, started to trickle in. Pretty soon, loved ones who are visiting, members of the staff, and my team, were all cautiously interacting and having quiet conversations with each other, feeling very much like the relaxed 'dinner party' Steph was hoping for.

I watched my wife take Kira from her parents for a moment so Mia and Mike ... and the ever-alert L.B., could enjoy some semblance of a pre-injury date. My eyes stayed trained on her as she started walking over to where Tank, Sosa, McCurry, Kendrick, Gary, and I, were talking in a quieter corner of the room, the men not ready to venture further than our small group. Being a beautiful woman got Stephanie some attention, holding a baby had her stopped every other second by every mother, grandmother, nurse, and those who just needed a brief reminder that while some lives end ... brand new ones can help ease the pain of an exit.

"I thought you might have missed me," my wife said, when she and Kira tucked themselves under my arm.

"I did."

"I brought a date back for someone who doesn't have one."

"I see that," I told her. "But _I'm_ the only one in this group who has a date. You could have just started a riot."

"We're in the right place for one," Sosa replied. "It'll be a quick turnaround time for stitches and bone-sets."

Having a little practice from Valerie's girls, Steph moved Kira to her shoulder and snuggled deeper into my side.

"Wrong thing to say," she told him, calmly rubbing the littlest Gonzoloz's back when she hiccuped. "I'll just keep her until Mike and Mia miss family time. Ranger will protect us from, _and also end,_ any brawls you boys start. So I'd rethink it."

"Well played, Babe."

"Thank you. I learned how to defuse a potentially dangerous situation from the best."

In the end, the men turned on the charm and were allowed to amuse the little lady while I got an almost-date with mine, in-between service members from all branches coming over to me to ask how so-and-so is, if I could get word to someone they haven't heard from, or just to simply introduce themselves and say a genuine 'thank you' for whatever service I've provided for them or one of their family members.

Stephanie got her own introductions and thank yous for trying to create a bright spot in an otherwise painful time in these people's lives. I made a note to make at least monthly celebrations here, and in similar facilities, a line item in my budget. Not only has Stephanie continued to bring peace, love, and sanity, to my life and the lives of the men we work and are friends with, it occurred to me that everybody in this room will come to the same conclusion I did after meeting her ... that even if you don't see Stephanie again after today, you will _never_ forget her.


End file.
